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JIM-UNCLASSIFIED 


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JIM— UNCLASSIFIED 


A Romance 


BY 

ROBERT J. KELLY 

M 



NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
1916 



Copyright, 1916 

By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC. 



JUL 22 1916 


©CI.A4:U9C3 

'H-o / . 


TO 

JEFFERY FARNOL 

MY LITERARY GODFATHER 
I DEDICATE 

THESE FRUITS OF HIS ENCOURAGEMENT, 
AS A MARK OF MY SINCERE GRATITUDE 
FOR HIS SYMPATHETIC INTEREST 

R. J. K. 



CONTENTS 
BOOK I 

THE PRINCE 

CHAPTER page 

I What’s Writ Is Writ 3 

II From Paradise to Hell 12 

III The Angel at the Gates 24 

IV A Barrellogue 35 

V My Mother’s III Health 42 

VI Satan Bargains with Beelzebub 49 

VII The Storm Gathers and Breaks 57 

VIII The Coroner’s Verdict 65 

IX The Momentous Bicycle 70 

BOOK II 

THE PRINCESS 

I Misadventures 77 

II Enter the Heroine 82 

III The End of My Bicycle 93 

IV I Pursue My Journey 100 

V The Home of Art 107 

VI I Seek a Livelihood 115 

VII Fortune’s Tricks 122 

VIII A Doctor Seeks to Classify an Insect . . .128 

IX A Smell of Paint 136 

X A Sunset and the Dawn 142 


CONTENTS 
BOOK III 

MAKING A NAME 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I A New Life 151 

II Flora Graham 159 

III A Day of Sightseeing 165 

IV The Doctor Passes Sentence 174 

V Art and Italy 180 

VI A Happy Christmas 189 

VII The Passing of John Sturgess 200 

VIII Honour 207 

IX Alec Reveals My Past 215 

X The Fox and the Grapes 224 

XI Princess Ida’s Debut 231 

XH I Seek My Father . 238 

XIII An Unlucky Birthday Gift 249 

XIV I Take Up the Scent Again 256 

XV I Lose My Little Bit of Ribbon 264 

XVI The Case for the Prosecution 270 

XVII The Sentence 293 

XVHI De Profundis 303 

XIX The Dawning of a Better Day 312 

XX Restitution . 324 

XXI I Recover My Ribbon • 333 


BOOK I 


THE PRINCE 


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JIM— UNCLASSIFIED 


CHAPTER I 

WHAT’S WRIT IS WRIT 

One Sunday afternoon in the fall of the year in 
which I became seven years old, Father was sitting 
with old Mister Blay in the creeper covered sum- 
mer-house at the bottom of the garden, and I was 
sitting on the step, watching an ant that was trying 
to drag a small centipede along the garden path. 
I remember now the glory of the hollyhocks in the 
old garden, how the air seemed full of a drowsy, 
lazy warmth and from the flower beds arose a 
faint incessant hum of bustling insect life, while 
the trees that covered the hills behind the house 
shone like beaten bronze and gold in the early 
autumn sunlight. My father at that time was an 
innkeeper, and Mister Blay frequently spent Sun- 
day afternoons with him; and always when the 
weather was warm enough they sat either in the 
summer-house or on the seat under the great apple 
tree in the middle of the grass plot, with a tankard 
of ale at hand for Mister Blay’s refreshment. 
Young as I was I knew Father was not fond of the 
3 


4 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 


old man, but Mother, who was always master, 
insisted that Father entertain him, and Father, 
not without complaint, gave in. Mother and old 
Bill Blay had been fellow servants at the great 
house whose owner was overlord of the surround- 
ing country for many miles ; he had been coachman 
to old Sir James when she was maid to Lady Lor- 
rilow, the parents of the baronet who now reigned 
over his broad acres from his retreat in sunny 
Italy, and when she gave up service to marry 
Father none could be found, among her fellow 
servants, to desire her acquaintance except the 
poor, old, discarded coachman. And so he came 
to sit and gossip in the garden on warm Sunday 
afternoons. 

On this day in particular I heard Father get 
up from his seat with an angry snort, and fall to 
pacing heavily up and down the summer-house 
floor. Fearing I might be in the way, I crossed 
to the gooseberry bush and after filling my small 
mouth with a great bursting, luscious fruit, turned 
and faced the summer-house. Father had by now 
left the old man and was stalking with his hands 
behind his back down the garden towards the 
house. Old Bill Blay’s face was hidden by the 
foot of his tankard, but he presently emerged and, 
after wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, 
beckoned to me. 

“ Jim,” said he, “ come here.” 


WHAT’S WRIT IS WRIT 


5 


I approached him, wondering, until I stood 
within the leafy portals of the summer-house, 
when taking my arm in a grip which he meant to 
be tender, he drew me to him and gazed into my 
eyes in a searching manner. 

“ B’y,” he said, “ you’re born for trubble.” 

“ Yes, Mister Blay? ” I meekly answered. 

“ Sure enough,” he continued, “ born for 
trubble as the sparks do fly upwards. Jim, b’y, 
them eyes o’ yourn will see a ’eap o’ sorrer afore 
they ever gets the laughin’ wrinkles round ’em.” 

I began to feel sorry for myself by now, and 
the more I watched the old man’s face the keener 
grew my self-pity, till at last the question that 
troubled my heart burst wofully from my lips. 

“ Why, Mister Blay? Why should I see a lot 
of sorrow? ” 

“ Because it’s writ there, b’y, and what’s writ is 
writ and you can’t get away from it.” 

“But ain’t I a good boy. Mister Blay?” I 
ventured in protest. 

“ None better, Jim,” he answered, shaking his 
head, mournfully, “ but it’s alius so with your sort. 
A happy man or woman was never born the way 
you was. ’Ard it do seem that the innercent 
should be made to suffer, but the sins of the fathers 
shall be visited on the children’s writ in the book, 
and what’s writ there is truth, you can take my 
word for it.” 


6 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

A long pause, while the wondering eyes of in- 
nocence gazed into the veiled eyes of knowledge. 
Then innocence in a tear-choked voice spoke again. 

“ Wasn’t I born like other little boys, Mister 
Blay?” 

“ Most on ’em waits till they’re wanted,” he re- 
plied gruffly. 

“Didn’t I do that?” 

No answer was vouchsafed to my question as 
my companion hunted his pockets in search of a 
match, so I ventured to repeat it. My persistence 
seemed to rouse something within him so that he 
gave me an apprehensive look. 

“ Jim,” he said, coaxingly, “ you’re a good b’y. 
Go and fetch me a match.” 

So, seeing that the gates of knowledge were 
closed, I turned and followed In the footsteps of 
my father down the garden path. 

The garden was my chief delight from my earli- 
est recollection. I loved it fervently and lived In 
it from morning until night and, although I had 
no one who could tell me the names of the flowers 
and shrubs, I knew exactly how they grew, their 
formation and habits, and every creeping and fly- 
ing thing that visited them. Whenever I could 
find a piece of paper and a stub of pencil it was 
my passion to make little drawings of my flower 
friends as I knew them, and when In later years 
I saw my baby efforts with matured eyes, I realised 


WHAT’S WRIT IS WRIT 


7 


that even then I had possessed a keenness of per- 
ception and a sense of form far beyond that of 
children more than twice my age. But to-day as I 
trod my Eden on my errand I saw none of it. I 
even kicked my tortoise over so that he sprawled 
on his back with legs waving in the air, and tarried 
not to pick him up, so full was my mind of a keen 
sense of injustice in that I was born the way I 
was. I found myself in the passage ere I re- 
membered what I had come there for, and a 
sound of voices in the bar parlour drove my errand 
once more out of my mind. Father’s was the 
first I heard. 

“ That’s what you always say, but you’re not so 
charitable with everybody,” he declared. 

Mother answered him in a high-pitched, sar- 
castic tone. 

“ Indeed ! What a pity I didn’t ask your per- 
mission ! ” 

“ I don’t see why I should be expected to keep 
him,” Father retorted, “the lazy old ruffian I 
His score’s over two pounds and he never offers to 
pay.” 

“ Have you asked him? ” 

“ Asked him! You know he always says he’ll 
pay on quarter day, and when that comes he says 
he didn’t get it.” 

“ He doesn’t always get it now, for her Lady- 
ship won’t pay it when Sir Edward is away.” 


8 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ She’s got more sense than some women I 
know.” 

“Oh, has she? You needn’t remind me how 
little I had when I married you.” 

“ Huh! the older you get the less you have.” 

“ Are you going to give it him? ” 

“No!” 

“ Then give it to me and I’ll take it to him my- 
self.” 

“ But my dear — ” 

“ Give it to me I say ! ” 

“ Oh, very well, but it’s the last he’ll have. 
I’ll tell him—” 

“ You’ll tell him nothing.” 

“Oh! have your own way then,” and Father 
opened the door angrily and I was face to face 
with him. 

“ What are you doing here? ” he blustered. 

“ I’m looking for some matches for Mister 
Blay,” I answered, falteringly. 

Thereupon he seized me by the arm, and admin- 
istered three hefty clouts around my poor head. 

“ You story-telling young blackguard,” he 
roared, “ you were listening. I’ll teach you to lie 
to me.” 

The tears by now were falling thick and fast 
and my sobs all but made me unintelligible. “ I 
wasn’t. Father; oh, I wasn’t listening! ” I pro- 
tested. 


WHAT’S WRIT IS WRIT 


9 


What further would have happened to me I 
do not know, and truth to tell I fear to speculate, 
so violent was he, with great purple veins stand- 
ing high upon his temples, flashing eyes and wet 
protruding under lip. I verily believe he would 
have maimed me had not my mother at my cries 
come quickly to my rescue. She sprang through 
the door and on to me like a tiger cat and 
snatched me from the arms of my executioner and 
turned on him so that he withered, as wool does 
when you put it in a flame. 

“You cowardly brute!” she whispered, 
hoarsely, in a strained voice. 

Thankful for the respite, I clung to her skirts, 
and folded in her encircling arms my tears and 
howls of terror changed to those of self-pity, and 
secure in the protection of my deliverer increased 
tenfold in volume. I could feel that her whole 
being trembled and her bosom heaved with the 
intensity of her breathing as she fixed him with her 
eyes and dared him to touch me. In a moment 
she had regained her fluency of speech and she lit 
into him in a manner that seared his marrow for 
many a day. 

“You brute!” she screamed. “You brute! 
You hulking bully! You dare to strike my child! 
You dare!” 

And what with her staccato screams and my 
crescendo sobs the place was pandemonium itself, 


lo JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

so Father, sucking in his under lip with never a 
word to either of us, took the matches off the 
mantelpiece and putting them in his pocket went 
sulkily back to the garden. 

There is no place in this wide and dreary world 
where the wounded, tender heart of a boy can find 
so much comfort as in the lap of his mother. I 
nestled to her bosom and sobbed my sorrow out, 
the while she crooned over me, rocking me gently 
to and fro until a great peace warmed my tor- 
tured soul and melted my hardened heart, so that 
I was near to tears again for very joy. 

Thus we sat silent for full a minute. I felt 
for my handkerchief but finding it not, my mother 
wiped my eyes herself with her own little piece of 
cambric. Then looking into her face, which I 
now held between my hands, I asked her, coax- 
ingly : 

“ Mummie, what did Mister Blay mean when 
he said, ‘ What is writ is writ ’ ? ” 

“ What on earth are you talking about, child? ” 
she demanded, suspiciously. 

“ That’s what he said, mummy,” and patting 
her cheek tenderly I followed it up like the blind 
little innocent I was. “ And why, mummy dear, 
why was I born different to other little boys? ” 

I think if the house had fallen about my ears at 
that moment or the earth had opened and swal- 
lowed me, I would have been less surprised, and 


WHAT’S WRIT IS WRIT ii 

certainly less hurt, at the effect of my questioning; 
for my mother sprang upright so suddenly as to 
send me headlong from her lap, so that I rolled 
on the floor until I brought up, a huddled heap, 
against the sideboard legs. 

She towered above me for a moment, glaring at 
me wide-eyed and open mouthed, then pulling her- 
self together with an expression that froze my 
heart she was on me with a bound, and taking me 
by my shoulders led me weeping and unwilling to 
my bedroom, where she locked me in and strode 
off without a word. 


CHAPTER II 


FROM PARADISE TO HELL 

Having left the grammar school at the age of 
fourteen with a modicum of French and Latin and 
a thorough grounding of science, heathen mythol- 
ogy and mathematics, my father considered me fit 
to do battle with the world; so I was put to doing 
the odd jobs about the house. I must confess, 
that it was with an aching heart that I scrubbed the 
bar floors and kept them sanded, polished the 
windows, the pewter and the brasswork, cleaned 
the pots and measures and took out bottles of beer 
in a basket crate to customers. I was a sensitive 
child and the degradation of my lot bit into my 
soul with an indescribable fierceness, for I had 
done well at school and had fondly hoped that I 
would be put to something wherein my native 
talent would have a chance to blossom. And so 
it was that I looked forward with a wild longing 
to the coming of Tuesdays, when I had an after- 
noon off and my time was all my own from one 
o’clock onwards. 

It had been my habit to devote these hours of 
freedom to rambles in the woods, and frequently 
I had hurried to a certain secluded spot beside a 

IZ 


FROM PARADISE TO HELL 


13 


chattering brook, and throwing myself down upon 
the grass sobbed out my sorrows to that sweet 
mother of us all, in whose confidence there is no 
betrayal and who, at last, takes us, worn and 
weary, to her bosom and rocks us to sleep. But 
latterly, either because I was becoming hardened 
to my lot, or, because of the inward calling of 
some great power as yet unknown to me, I had 
ceased repining and, with a shilling box of paints 
which I had surreptitiously procured, had spent 
those blessed hours in feeding my poor starving 
mind with the food for which it craved. 

Now it happened that on a certain Tuesday I 
was busily engaged, with my foot upon the bottom 
step of the flight that led from the back of the 
house to the garden, polishing my boots prepara- 
tory to taking my weekly excursion, whistling 
busily in pure joy at the anticipation, when I be- 
came aware of a certain hat coming towards me 
along the top of the oaken fence that separated 
our garden from the road. It was a tall and 
shiny hat of intense brilliance, so brilliant, indeed, 
that it hurt my eyes to gaze upon it, and the gloss 
was not the gloss of youth but rather that of 
extreme senility. As I looked at it my heart 
leaped and I ceased whistling and stood upright, 
awaiting its approach. Presently it came opposite 
to where I stood, and stopping, turned so that it 
faced me, then a pair of hands with long, thin. 


14 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

sensitive and knotty fingers, took a hold on the top 
of the fence. There came a scuffling sound 
against the oak, and the hat rose painfully, higher 
and higher, until first a halo of white curls ap- 
peared beneath, then a pair of dark, piercing, but 
very kindly eyes under two shaggy eyebrows, and 
a nose long and sharp but bulbous at the tip, and 
a very cataract of white moustache, from the 
depths of which a deep, rich, but somewhat quav- 
ery voice greeted me. 

“ Oh I Prince Arthur, what makes you cease 
so suddenly? ” 

“ I was watching your hat. Mister Pond.” 

“ My hat? Prithee, little prince, is my poor 
hat so poor that e’en the lark will cease his warb- 
ling at the sight thereof? ” 

“ No, Mister Pond, but I was pleased to see you 
coming.” 

“ Well said, my young and noble prince, well 
said.” 

Now Alexander Hannibal Pond was the only 
friend I possessed, young as I was, old as he 
was. 

He was a native of the village who long years 
ago had been lured to London by his passion for 
the stage; but London and the stage had dealt 
harshly with him so that there was nothing left 
for him save memory, with imagination to help 
it. By most he was accounted mad; but to me 


FROM PARADISE TO HELL 15 

there was something in his eyes which struck an 
answering chord within my heart, and I read in 
their passionate fires the light of genius. He lived 
in London still, how, nobody knew nor cared. 
He came to his native village frequently to see his 
brother who was lodgekeeper at Ravenhurst; and 
while here spent his evenings in the private bar of 
our house. And when the liquor was in him he 
was a source of great merriment to the other fre- 
quenters of the bar, because at those times his 
memory would sometimes carry him back to long 
forgotten triumphs, so that he would ramp and 
gesticulate wildly, dramatically, reciting whole 
pages of Hamlet or Julius Caesar to detriment of 
the glasses and bar fittings. 

Now his kindly old face filled me with great joy 
because I knew that he was coming with me on my 
ramble, and to have his company was to see things 
with different eyes, to get a better perspective on 
the country side so that it loomed more beautiful 
because of him. At such times my sketching out- 
fit was left at home, hidden in my potshed, and I 
usually carried in its stead a light cane and a toy 
pistol, the latter a model I very much prized be- 
cause at a little distance it was indistinguishable 
from a genuine weapon. These were my “ props ” 
and desperate indeed were the duels we fought in 
the seclusion of the woods, but though we played 
many parts together and doughty were the deeds 


1 6 JIM UNCLASSIFIED 

we did perform, his chief delight was to cast me 
for Prince Arthur, and himself for Hubert. 

Oh, those Tuesday afternoons of ever blessed 
memory ! 

So, having duly finished my toilet and armed 
myself according to tradition, behold us by the 
singing brook, knee deep in bluebells, with my arm 
about his waist and his around my shoulder, while 
I listened to the tales of his triumphs as we saun- 
tered to our rendezvous. 

Now, though deeply engrossed In what he was 
telling me, my keen eyes were attracted by some- 
thing less than a yard to my right. I stopped sud- 
denly, for what I had seen was a hare sitting 
hunched up In the bracken with ears laid flat and 
great, black, frightened eyes that seemed to stare 
at nothing. I advanced to seize it, whereat it 
gave a great bound and was gone across the clear- 
ing. Giving a view halloo I was after it In a flash 
with my companion In close pursuit. For a time 
it would be lost in a clump of bracken, and then It 
would appear again crossing an open glade to Its 
next retreat, and, being a young and Innocent fool, 
I followed at top speed. 

On and on I blundered, joyously, over fallen 
trees, through high beds of bracken, shouting for 
sheer joy In my desire; and far behind old Alec 
came complalningly, calling upon me to stop, for 
the pace was too much for him. Suddenly my feet 


FROM PARADISE TO HELL 


17 


encountered an obstacle, something soft and yield- 
ing, hidden in the undergrowth ; and being brought 
up sharp as to my lower extremities, and continu- 
ing my wild flight with my upper, I pitched head- 
long on my face. 

It was as if I had stumbled on a portal of the 
underworld, for my fall was accompanied by such 
a sulphurous stream of profanity as to fill my mind 
with terror. It was such a mixture of idioms as I 
have never heard before or since, French, and 
something that sounded like Italian, real American 
curses from the Golden Gate and sailor slang in 
broken English. My face blanched that any man 
could say such things and live I So I sat and faced 
around, awestruck and fascinated, to see the being 
that dared to utter such blasphemies; and there, 
sitting up likewise and facing me, was a tattered 
man with face as brown as our bar counter, long 
black hair that streamed in rats’ tails over his 
brow, short black beard that but intensified the 
gleaming whiteness of his teeth, and fierce black 
eyes that glared at me, vilely and ferociously. 

As I gazed of a sudden his ferocity left him, like 
a violent tempest quickly spent, his expression soft- 
ened and intense surprise and recognition were in 
its stead. We sat for near a minute and he it was 
who broke the spell. Arising quickly he ap- 
proached me with a smile which I liked even less 
than his frown, so cunning was it and full of evil 


1 8 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

portent, such a smile as a snake might show to its 
victim ere it strikes. 

“ Ha! ” he said, “ my little friend, you do not 
know me, hey? ” 

“ No,” I answered, suspiciously, “ I don’t.” 

“ Dat is ver natural,” he responded, “ I ’ave 
seen you not since you wos so ’igh,” and he indi- 
cated my former height with his hand. 

“ Oh I ” I replied, in a not very encouraging 
tone. 

Although his smile was full of honey, his eyes 
glowed, cruelly. A moment or two later he tried 
another tack. 

“Is your moder keeping well?” he asked, 
sweetly. 

“ My mother is nothing to you,” I told him. 
“ You mind your own business and leave me 
alone.” 

He crawled to within a foot of me and lifting a 
dirty forefinger, wagged it threateningly near my 
face. 

“ Don’t you go to play no Goddam stunts on 
me, my cock,” he said, warningly. 

I recoiled from him with growing alarm, but he 
followed, still wagging his finger, so that, thinking 
it best to humour him, I stopped and answered. 

“ What do you want with my mother? ” 

Suddenly he shot out his arm, and gripping the 
lapel of my coat, held me tight. 


FROM PARADISE TO HELL 19 

You are going to take me to her,” he hissed. 

I clung to his waist and struggled to be free. 

“ Let go ! Let go I you dirty tramp ! ” I cried 
and hit him in the mouth. 

His pent up passion burst at that, his grip tight- 
ened on my coat and throwing his weight upon me 
he laid me down, then drawing a rough knife from 
a sheath slung at his back, he put it to my throat; 
so that I was near to faint with terror. What 
would have happened to me I cannot imagine had 
not his attention been attracted by a prodigious 
trampling in the bracken; he turned from me to 
see what caused it, and was confronted by an ap- 
parition such as I am sure he had never before 
beheld. A towering figure, lean and old, clad in 
an old brown ulster though it was the depth of 
summer, with long white locks surrounding the 
brim of an exceedingly shiny hat, and two eyes 
that flamed at him with all the ferocity of a tigress 
defending her young. A long lean arm uplifted 
held a stout and heavy stick. 

“ How now, thou foul and scurvy knave,” my 
protector shouted. “ Be thou a spirit of Heaven 
or a Goblin damned I will cleave thee to the 
chine ! ” 

Waiting to hear no more the stranger loosed his 
hold on me, and springing to his feet leapt across 
the clearing and was lost in the nearest thicket; 
while I, shaken with my adventure, was sobbing 


20 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

In the soothing embrace of the only soul I loved. 

In due time sanity reascended the throne of rea- 
son, my unnatural emotion slowly subsided and I 
fell to wiping my eyes, smoothing down my ruffled 
hair and divesting my garments of many super- 
fluous pieces of braken that had adhered to them 
in my fall. Seeing which my companion placed 
his arm around my shoulder once again, and we 
proceeded soberly through the woods. 

Many were the threats he levelled at my late 
assailant should he ever meet him, and very ear- 
nestly did we discuss him; but who he was, whence 
he came, and whither he was bound, were to re- 
main a mystery, at least for the remainder of the 
day. 

After a while we climbed a wire fence and so 
found ourselves on a footpath running between 
two fields, on our left an unbroken vista of undu- 
lating grain, while to our right was tares spreading 
away to a thicket of firs, silver grey in a gathering 
mist. The path led over the brow of a low hill 
and descending crossed the main road half a mile 
away and led direct to the lodge gates of Raven- 
hurst. 

As we approached a figure came toward us on 
our right, squat and portly, dressed in sober black, 
with a hard hewn face, and a square cut beard 
clipped close at the cheeks. The eyes were bright 
Under shaggy brows, and there was that about 


FROM PARADISE TO HELL 


21 


them that stirred some chord of memory so that 
he seemed familiar. My surprise was lessened 
when Alec waved his hand In introduction. 

“ My prince, behold In yonder myrmidon your 
Hubert’s unworthy brother.” 

“ Your brother, Mister Pond! ” I answered, as 
the other stopped at the gate and waited for us. 

“ No other, Arthur, and by Heaven we are In 
luck! You have often wished to see the pictures 
and the great studio at Ravenhurst, and to-day — 
you shall! Walt here.” 

“ Oh! Mister Pond! ” was all I could ejacu- 
late, as he crossed the road to his brother. 

Each greeted the other In his own manner; Alec 
effusive, gesticulative and affectionate; the other 
none too cordial, his whole form exuding disap- 
proval the while his roving eye weighed up the 
glistening hat and the soiled boots. 

After a little while the eloquence of the elder 
apparently prevailed, for the younger glanced 
across at me. Then Alec, patting his brother on 
the shoulder In a friendly fashion, waved his stick 
as a signal that I should approach. 

Without further ado I crossed over and Alec 
Introduced me to his brother. 

“ This Is the precious casket, George, from 
which the Heavenly spark, so long confined, will 
one day burst, dazzling and brilliant, upon an as- 
tonished world. And this, my little prince, is my 


22 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

bountiful, my ever revered and most respected 
brother, George.” 

I do not know which was the most surprised at 
this unusual introduction, brother George or my- 
self. He shook my hand in a perfunctory man- 
ner, though he could hardly restrain a smile as he 
did so, while I, awestruck at meeting the lodge- 
keeper of Ravenhurst, was very red at Alec’s flat- 
tering eulogy. 

“Innkeeper’s son?” he questioned. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ The Goat and Compasses? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Fond of pictures ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, sir! I am indeed, sir.” 

“ Know how to behave yourself? ” 

“ I hope so, sir.” 

“ Her Ladyship is away now or you wouldn’t be 
allowed in,” brother George continued. “ I have 
to be very particular who I take into the house; 
but my brother says you are to be trusted, though 
you are the first village lad I ever heard that said 
of.” 

I was mute under his admonition but not so 
Alec. He struck an attitude expressive of his 
indignation and burst forth eloquently. 

“ Village lad 1 Village lad forsooth ! ! Breathes 
there a man with soul so dead who never to him- 
self has said that this flower of the country side. 


FROM PARADISE TO HELL 23 

born as he is to blush unseen, will go down to his 
grave unknown, unhonoured and unsung! If so, 
out upon him! Out upon him, I say! George, 
the day will come when even you will grovel at his 
feet and call him Master! ” 

The other seemed quite cool under the scathing 
outburst, and unlocking the gate led us in. 

“ Alec, you’re a fool,” was all he said. 


CHAPTER III 


THE ANGEL AT THE GATES 

This house, built in early Tudor times, had been 
the birthplace of a noble family. Squire had 
succeeded knight and been in turn elevated to 
knighthood, and even genius had appeared at long 
intervals; two great statesmen had honoured the 
race, a viceroy, and that famous soldier who had 
first earned for them the distinction of the bloody 
hand; but the greatest and most amazing of all 
was the last representative, who, picking up the 
strain from some long forgotten ancestor on his 
mother’s side, or because of his innate aloofness 
and introspection had shone forth but one genera- 
tion back the greatest painter of his time. Al- 
ways a recluse in spirit he had never placed his 
work on public exhibition; but building himself 
a studio which was at the same time his gallery, 
because of its great vastness, he had covered its 
walls with treasures which were beyond the power 
of man to buy. Kings had come here and queens, 
famed for their beauty and graciousness, to be 
painted by his magic hand; and with few excep- 
tions here they still were, a monument to his in- 
comparable genius. 


24 


THE ANGEL AT THE GATES 


25 


And I was to see them, to gaze with my own 
eyes on those famous pictures of which I had 
heard almost from my cradle ! 

So following in the wake of my elders I pres- 
ently entered the lodge, and waited obediently on 
the edge of a chair, while they pledged eternal 
and fraternal fidelity in whisky and water. 

Beholding me thus, Alec’s great heart throbbed 
in solicitude and pouring some whisky into a tumb- 
ler he handed it to me. 

“ Most noble prince,” he said, as he thrust the 
glass with trembling hand into my unwilling fist, 
“ it is not meet that you should sit thus meek while 
wassail flows.” 

“ Indeed, Alec,” I answered, somewhat taken 
aback at this attention, “ I am not old enough for 
that yet, and besides I might not like it.” 

However being overborne by their united per- 
suasions I sipped the fiery liquid while he hovered 
about in sore distress, looking for all the world 
like a hen whose brood of ducklings is taking its 
first swim, so that, choking as I was, laughter 
mingled with my tears as they trickled down my 
face. 

After that we went through the back door of 
the lodge and up the little garden, strolling along 
the path that ran between the kitchen garden and 
the shrubbery, then past the kennels vibrating 
with the music of their hungry occupants, and so 


26 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

around by the stables until entering the big house 
by the huge kitchen, we mounted the back stairs 
to the studio. 

My emotions at this supreme moment are now 
but a memory, but I know that never in my life be- 
fore, not even in church, had I felt such an atmos- 
phere of holiness surround me, so that I lost the 
power of speech, and stood silent, cap in hand, 
not daring to move from the patch of rug on 
which I found myself, and gazing with rapturous 
eyes at the wall before me. 

My ecstasy was broken by a voice, the voice 
of the lodge keeper. 

“ What do you think of them, boy? ” he asked. 

“ Oh, Mister Pond! ” I replied softly, “ I did 
not know the world could hold such things 1 ” 

“ George,” broke in Alec, gripping my arm con- 
vulsively, his face abeam, “ hear the voice of the 
planet calling to the sun I ” 

Something in his manner made a lump come into 
my throat, and breaking from him I ran to a chair 
beside a table and throwing myself into it buried 
my face in my hands and burst into choking sobs. 

In the fulness of time I recovered my compos- 
ure and, was very much ashamed of myself; but it 
was Alec who made my apologies for me. 

“ Our little prince is overwrought,” he ex- 
plained. “ A base and black browed varlet of a 
foreign hue attacked him in the woods yonder. 


THE ANGEL AT THE GATES 27 

George, and but for my timely entrance would sure 
have done him injury.” 

Alec explained to me afterwards that in this he 
was playing up to the gallery, for had he attempted 
to describe to his brother what he knew to be the 
true cause of my emotion, not only would it have 
belittled me in that gentleman’s estimation but 
would have angered him so as to seriously jeopar- 
dise a scheme he was concocting for his own finan- 
cial benefit. As it was George grunted something 
about the woods swarming with gipsies, and tak- 
ing my arm, he led me round the gallery, in a 
slow procession from canvas to canvas halting 
before every portrait of great lady or gallant 
squire, filling my unheeding ears with the family 
history of each; and it pleased him not at all that 
I had ever an ear for Alec’s rhapsodies on what 
he styled technique, his brilliant discourses on 
drawing, composition, lighting and harmonies, 
the like of which I had never before heard. In- 
deed Alec’s flights of oratory as he unfolded to me 
the deathless stories woven around the great 
mythological paintings thrilled me through and 
through so that the minutes passed unheeded, until 
the sound of wheels upon the drive caused the 
lodgekeeper to gaze inquisitively out of the win- 
dow to see who it was that might come to call upon 
his lady in her absence. 

While he was gone Alec whispered to me. 


28 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Arthur, George is displeased with you.” 

“ With me, Mister Pond? ” I answered, in some 
alarm. 

“ Who else, my boy, who else? ” he returned. 

“ I have done nothing. Mister Pond,” I de- 
clared in grief and astonishment. 

“ My boy,” he answered, solemnly and impres- 
sively, “ when the pit and the gallery pay your 
keep and travelling expenses you must humour 
the pit and the gallery or — ” and he spread his 
hands apart to give point to his discourse, “ down 
with the curtain and depart.” 

” But how have I offended him? ” I demanded. 
“ I wanted to hear you, for I’m not interested 
in all these family histories; but I listened to him 
as well as I could.” 

“ Only with one ear, my noble prince, only with 
one ear. Better to use them both, my son, even 
though it be against the grain, when the pocket 
is empty and the cupboard bare.” 

“ But my pocket isn’t empty,” I protested. 

“ But mine is! ” he cried. 

Then it was I understood, and humbly apolo- 
gising and promising to do better on the lodge- 
keeper’s return, I pondered within myself over my 
first lesson in dissimulation, and seeing George 
Pond approaching the window where we were 
standing, I pointed to a portrait of a loose lipped, 
petulant looking boy of about ten holding a blood- 


THE ANGEL AT THE GATES 


29 


hound on a leash, and said, with as much interest 
as I could assume, “ I was waiting for you. Mister 
Pond, to tell me who this boy is.” 

Alec would have thrown his arms about me had 
he dared, but his. brother — though pleased — 
showed disapproval, at the manner of my ques- 
tion. 

“ That young gentleman, my boy,” he an- 
swered, pompously, with the accent on the young 
gentleman,” “ is Sir Edward Lorrilow, the present 
baronet, the only son of ’er ladyship and the late 
baronet, painted by Sir James Lorrilow the late 
baronet, when the present baronet was eleven 
years old; and as big a little scamp as ever walked, 
and I don’t care who hears me say so, though it 
mustn’t go back to her ladyship’s ears, not as it’s 
ever likely to, seeing as ’er ladyship won’t have 
much to say to the likes of you, young man. 
Sir Edward is now living at Vennis, in Italy, 
where he has resided for the past sixteen years, 
and I hope it will be another sixteen years before 
he comes back, for though he is legal owner of 
all these vast estates, as well as the house in 
Grosvenor Square and two hundred acres in North 
West London, and half of the county of Notting- 
ham, I pity him if he tries to lay his hand on a 
foot of it as long as ’er ladyship is alive. For 
though his father, the late baronet, doted on him, 
his mother, ’er present ladyship, for some reason 


30 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

or other hates the very sound of his name, and 
there isn’t a tenant or servant that dares mention 
it in her hearing, or out he would go without a 
moment’s warning; though sometimes ’er ladyship 
’as been known to sit and grieve for hours, but 
only I believe because he’s the last of his line and 
she never feels certain as to who might succeed 
to the title through him.” Then sweeping his 
hand toward the picture in pompous peroration, 
he cried, “ Sir Edward Lorrilow, the present bar- 
onet, painted by Sir James Lorrilow the late baro- 
net, when Sir Edward the present baronet, and the 
last of his line, was eleven years old.” 

Alec’s touch on my shoulder was never so lov- 
ing as now. 

“ Arthur, my prince,” he murmured, “ how 
gloriously that flesh glows with the bloom of 
youth ! Even as yours does. And the expres- 
sion of the eyes shows a painter filled with the 
fire of paternal love. Look at those shapely little 
hands, with the little finger slightly cocked ! See ? 
Just a slight uplifting. How they speak of the 
blood of a hundred noble sires ! That is not 
paint, my boy, but living flesh and blood laid with 
a loving hand on worthless canvas — an art, 
transcendant.” 

I sighed when he had finished and my cheeks 
burned with a glow of pleasure at his words. 

Meanwhile his brother was all impatience to 


THE ANGEL AT THE GATES 31 

relate the virtues of a noble dame clad in a steel 
blue dress, one of the largest canvases in the 
collection, so we followed meekly to stand in 
reverential awe before it. 

“ Her present ladyship,” he announced in full 
round tones, noting our interested demeanour 
with obvious satisfaction, “ the relict of the late 
baronet and mother of the present one, third 
daughter of the Duke of Galloway in Scotland, 
who brought with her as her dowry — ” 

The opening of the door at the farther end of 
the room and a rustle of draperies interrupted his 
flow, and we turned to behold the original of the 
painting, her brows raised in high bred surprise, 
advancing towards the table. 

Never have I seen so rapid a change in any 
man’s demeanour ! The pompous, arrogant, 
domineering and purseproud brother and patron 
was replaced by a cringing, fawning sycophant of 
a thing, so poor and mean and humble that my 
cheeks blazed for very shame of him. And Alec 
too, was all of a tremor, with startled eyes and 
fumbling hands, as nervous and self conscious 
as a naughty boy discovered in mischief. With 
raised lorgnette her ladyship gazed upon us. 

“ Visitors, Pond? ” she queried. 

“ I took the liberty, your ladyship,” he an- 
swered, with confusion, “ in your ladyship’s 
absence, not knowing your ladyship had returned. 


32 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

of inviting my brother and his young companion to 
view your ladyship’s collection, hoping that your 
ladyship will excuse the liberty.” 

“ Indeed ! Is this your brother ? ” 

She looked at Alec as though he were one of 
the pictures, 

Alec who by now had recovered his composure, 
swept the ground with his hat in a bow worthy of 
D’Artagnan. 

“ Most gracious lady,” he said, with hand on 
heart, “ it is indeed an honour that a lady so 
fair and proud as you should notice an actor so 
poor as 1.” 

She stiffened a little at this. 

“ Did I hear your brother say he was an actor, 
Pond?” she demanded. 

“ A humble votary I at the shrine of Thespis,” 
answered Alec, not giving the lodgekeeper a 
chance to speak for him, “ to whom that fickle 
deity has been none too kind. But poor as I am 
in raiment, I am rich indeed in the practice of the 
art I love. With the great Irving, I — ” 

But she interrupted him with that brusque rude- 
ness which the cultured and high bred often use 
toward the poor. 

“And who is this young person, pray?” 

She looked at me at first with the same cool, in- 
solent, critical stare with which she had favoured 
Alec, starting at my boots and scanning my clothes, 


THE ANGEL AT THE GATES 


33 


not missing a single button, until mounting up- 
ward her eyes met mine. I knew not what she 
saw there, but her mouth opened slightly and a 
deathly pallor swept over her, and stretching out 
her arm in the manner of a queen of melodrama 
she pointed an accusing finger at my poor self, 
while her breath came thick and fast and her 
voice was the voice of one who choked. 

“ Who are you, boy? ” she demanded, hoarsely. 

“ I am Jim Sturgess of the Goat and Com- 
passes, my lady,” I answered, with much respect. 

She gazed a moment longer and her pent up 
emotion found vent at last. 

“ Begone I ” she commanded, fiercely, stamping 
her foot the while. “ Begone, this instant! And 
see you. Pond, that he never enters this house 
again.” 

With pale face and darkling eye the lodge- 
keeper hurried me unceremoniously to the door 
by which we had entered. My faithful Alec has- 
tened after us and ere his brother had time to slam 
the door, he slipped through with me and so to- 
gether we trudged again homewards, through the 
woods, across the meadows and down the leafy 
lanes, with never a word until my paternal door 
was reached. There we paused a moment, and as 
he gripped my hand in his he shook his poor old 
head until his curls wagged like curtains in a 
breeze. 


34 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ My prince, this has been a sad, sad day for 
both of us,” Alec declared, in a voice choked with 
tears. 


CHAPTER IV 


A BARRELLOGUE 

I SAID not a word about this adventure, for I 
had learned the wisdom of caution in regard to 
strange happenings since the episode of Bill Blay 
and “ what’s writ is writ,” but I pondered over it 
the more. 

Father had not improved with years. He was 
larger and redder than formerly, and drank so 
much that he was sullen and morose most of the 
time. 

Mother had grown thinner and more acid as 
to tongue, and whatever spark of love had ever 
existed between these two was now but a mass 
of embers fast smouldering into hate. 

I had always been a source of irritation to 
Father, and in his cups he would eye me with an 
amount of suspicion the cause of which was im- 
possible for me to guess. But for the watch- 
ful care of Mother who never left my side when 
he was intoxicated, I believe he would have done 
me serious injury, but so afraid was he of her 
venomous tongue that he would go about his work 
in sullen ill humour, his only vent consisting in 
35 


36 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

tearing strips of paper from the edge of the Morn- 
tng Advertiser which he would roll into little pel- 
lets and chew with an evil relish. Mother hon- 
estly tried to do her duty by me as far as she 
understood the word, but it was obviously a duty 
and not a pleasure. To her I was merely the 
future energy that in the course of nature would 
carry on the business that kept her in material 
comforts. So she encouraged me to work and 
forbade me to dream. 

The night of my adventure I ran down the cellar 
steps glad at heart because I was still my own 
master, it being, as I have said, my half day off, 
and as there was no immediate hurry about the 
evening beer I closed the door, and sitting on the 
bottom step gazed into the cellar’s obscurity. 
Slowly my eyes grew accustomed to its gloom and 
out of its lurking shadows, one by one, the barrels 
showed forth shadowy outlines. There is some- 
thing about a barrel that always strikes an answer- 
ing chord within me, something so companionable, 
so cheery withall, such an air of good fellowship 
in its corpulent rotundity, as if it were not for 
the restraining iron bands it would fly asunder 
in its very eagerness to let out the good things 
contained within its depths. 

So one by one they appeared from the murk all 
along the low wall like jolly friars on bended 
knees, with heads bowed down in deepest rever- 


A BARRELLOGUE 


37 


ence; — only it looked as if some one had come 
through and chopped off their heads, and their fat 
and stooping bodies remained chuckling at the 
absurdity of it all, and, where their gullets had 
once been, were inserted long and sinuous jointed 
pipes, which gathered in a bunch above my head 
and there spread out, each to follow its appointed 
path to the beer engines in the bar above. The 
ray of sunlight coming through the bars of the 
ventilator high up under the ceiling brought into 
strong relief the two white letters on the nearest 
cask, and up its fairy path danced little silver 
specks and a moth fluttered in it like a dancer in 
the limelight. The majestic bulk of the large up- 
standing sixty gallon spirit casks loomed up 
through the shadowy palings which divided the 
beer from the spirit cellar, and the little firkins 
that held the stout and porter snugly tucked away 
between the barrels along the other wall, gave 
promise of a joviality equal to their big brothers’ 
when they had grown to full maturity. 

A subdued murmuring came from overhead, 
with shuffling of feet over sanded floors, the oc- 
casional slamming of doors, and muffled jolts as 
the “ pulls ” of the engines sprang back after each 
delivery of sparkling, frothing beer. 

I sat in the semi-darkness as I often did when 
things had gone awry, and asked myself time and 
time again what could be the answer to the riddles 


38 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

of the day. Why had I been turned out of the 
picture gallery so abruptly, as if I were a pestilent 
thing, and forbidden ever to see it again? Why 
had her ladyship’s face blanched at sight of me? 
What had happened to the lodgekeeper after my 
departure? And how was it going to fare with 
poor Alec’s empty pocket and bare cupboard now 
that I had so unwittingly upset his calculations? 
And the ragged wanderer in the woods — who 
was he to take such vivid interest in me? What 
did he want of my mother? 

The splash of the waste coming through the 
pipe from the beer sink into the tub beside me 
aroused me, and finding no answer to the ques- 
tions that disturbed me I rose from my seat and 
lit the gas. Crossing to the nearest barrel I 
tapped it with my knuckles. A hollow sound like 
a mocking laugh issued from its bulging sides as 
if it held the answer but was too knowing a thing 
of the world to divulge its secret. The next I 
tapped with like result; but there was no need to 
test the third, as the hissing froth around the bung 
told me that the “ finings ” were at work and the 
contents fit to slake the thirst of the sturdy yeo- 
men above my head. So with a few sharp strokes 
of the mallet I drove the tap well home and affix- 
ing the pipes notified my father, by knocking on 
the ceiling. Then “ fining ” another barrel ready 
for future use I climbed upon it and, sitting astride 


A BARRELLOGUE 


39 


its sturdy back with my hands in my pockets and 
my back against the whitewashed wall, gave my- 
self up to reveries. 

I must have fallen asleep, for very soon I found 
my barrel floating on a turbid sea, waves dashing 
at me on all sides mountains high while all around 
an impenetrable mist shut out the course. Soon, 
to my horror, I found myself attacked by a shark, 
which lifting up its head, grinned at me with flash- 
ing teeth from out a black unshaven chin, while 
snaky locks, wild and uncontrolled, obscured the 
baleful glare in its black and beady eyes. Sud- 
denly it had caught the barrel and sprang up be- 
side me! We swayed to and fro in deadly com- 
bat. 

The terror of the nightmare was so dreadful 
that I cried to the only soul I loved. 

“Alec!” I wailed. “Oh, Alec!” 

“ Jim! ” A voice called, imperiously. “ Jim, 
where are you? ” 

“ Here ! ” I answered, startled into wakeful- 
ness, and scrambling hastily from off my perch, 
“ down in the cellar.” 

“ What the devil are you doing down there, 
wasting the gas?” came the voice of my father 
down the stairs. “ Don’t you know it’s closing 
time? ” 

Startled into sweating apprehension at finding I 
had slumbered on the barrel all the evening I 


40 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

divested myself of my apron and ran upstairs to 
the bar. Father was calling the time-honoured 
formula: “Now then, gents, closing time 
please! 

I saw the saloon and private bar customers out 
with many a cheery good night, then locking the 
doors prepared to marshal out those of the public 
bar and tap-room. Slowly they trooped past me, 
a motley crew — old Bill, Darkey Bill and Gipsy 
Bill, Fred Oldcorn, the carter, “ Charlie,” the 
night watchman, and his buxom wife, the withered, 
road mender of uncountable years and unbeliev- 
able adventures ; and every one had a kindly word 
for Jim the potboy. 

Lowering the outside lamp I was about to lock 
the door when I noticed a man in the far corner 
of the tap-room, fast asleep at the table with his 
head in his arms, so crossing the bar I shook him 
roughly. 

“ Now then, wake up, you can’t stop here all 
night,” I cried. 

Father was clearing the takings out of the till 
ready for the nightly audit, so did not notice 
my start and exclamation as the surprised and 
withal triumphant face of the mongrel Italian 
tramp who had attacked me in the woods gazed 
into mine. He shuffled past me in his filthy rags, 
and stopping at the door chuckled fiendishly 
through set teeth with his face unpleasantly near 


A BARRELLOGUE 41 

my own. Phew! I can smell the garlic now, 
filtering through the fumes of alcohol I 

“ Ha ha! my cock! de saints haf led me to de 
ver ’ouse, — and is your moder keeping ver well? 

I answered him never a word, but sick at heart 
I slammed the door and locked his jeering laugh- 
ter out with the stars. 


CHAPTER V 


MY MOTHER’S ILL HEALTH 

The next morning the first person to enter the 
house was no other than the man who had left it 
last the night before ! No word of greeting 
passed between us, but with sardonic malevolence 
he grinned at me and, going boldly to the counter, 
demanded a mixed Vermouth which Father served. 
Seating himself at the table he untied a red hand- 
kerchief, and taking therefrom some cheese, 
bread and a large malodorous onion, he drew 
that same murderous knife I had so much rea- 
son to remember and breakfasted silently and 
alone. 

Mother came down at half past seven and busied 
herself over breakfast, for being such a small 
family we had no need of a maid; neither was 
our business so flourishing that we could afford 
help in the bar, so it was always Mother’s custom 
to relieve Father for three hours in the afternoon 
and one in the evening, and sometimes take duty 
of a morning when his head was muzzy from his 
overnight potations. 

I swept up and sanded the floors of the pri- 

4Z 


MY MOTHER’S ILL HEALTH 43 

vate and public bars, avoiding the tap-room as a 
plague. The early morning sunlight streamed 
in through the open doors. The grateful scent 
and sound of sizzling sausages whetted my youth- 
ful appetite. And presently it befel that I spied 
Mother at the bottom of the stairs preparing to 
carry up the tray, and jumping at any opportunity 
to delay my operations in that fateful tap-room, I 
hastened down that I might carry it for her, an 
attention that was gratefully if not graciously ac- 
cepted. 

So behold us in the bar-parlour, which was at 
once our breakfast and dining room, mother and 
son, bustling about the preparations for the meal, 
which, being completed. Mother went to the glass 
door and tapped thereon that Father might know 
we awaited the pleasure of his company. 

Pulling aside the red curtain that covered the 
lower half of the glass panels she surveyed the 
morning’s customers, and from my coign of van- 
tage at her elbow I saw the eyes of the foreign 
tramp lift and meet her own. A bland smile of 
recognition in which there was much of cruel 
triumph lighted up his vulpine face, as, half rising 
from his seat, he doffed his dirty hat with an 
exuberant flourish and bowed with mock punctilio 
to the floor. 

Mother dropped the curtain as if it burnt her 
and staggering back into the room, her face as 


44 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

white as her own tablecloth, collapsed into the 
nearest chair. 

Father coming in at the same moment, she rose 
and poured out his tea with trembling hands. 

“ Matilda,” Father said, ungraciously, “ what’s 
the matter with you? ” 

“ I don’t know,” she replied, all of a flutter. 
“Oh! I don’t know; I — I’ve got a bit of a 
headache, I think.” 

“ Think,” he almost snarled, “ don’t you 
know? ” 

She gave him such a look that he changed his 
tone. 

“ Why,” he said with more consideration, 
“ you were all right this morning, weren’t 
you? ” 

“Was I?” she snapped, “was I? How do 
you know I was all right? You never troubled 
to inquire.” 

“ Well,” he persisted, anxious to conciliate, 
“ you were all right when you went to bed last 
night anyway.” 

“ For all the trouble you ever take to find out 
I might be half dead and you never know it,” she 
answered, wiping her moist eyes with her hand- 
kerchief. 

Seeing all the signs of a coming storm I stepped 
into the field, like the blundering fool I was. 

“ Anyway, Mother,” I piped with conviction. 


MY MOTHER’S ILL HEALTH 45 

“ you were well enough when you brought the 
breakfast up, weren’t you?” 

She stiffened and sat up as straight as a wooden 
soldier and glared at me with flashing eyes. 

“ Jim ! ” she gasped. “ James I how dare you ! 
How dare you, I say? You wicked boy, how dare 
you suggest that I am not telling the truth? ” 

Leaving her breakfast untasted, she flounced 
out of the room and presently we heard the rattle 
of the key in her bedroom door above. 

Father sat with puckered brows, his cheeks 
puffed out and wet protruding lip, then getting up 
as if with sudden resolution strode heavily into 
the bar. In a minute he was back again, and tak- 
ing his stand at the side of the table opposite to 
me, he bent his heavy face to mine. 

“ What’s upset her? ” he asked, with such sud- 
denness that I nearly choked myself with sausage 
ere I could reply. 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ I believe you’re a young liar,” he snarled. 

“ Believe what you like, Father,” I retorted 
hotly. “ I know no more than you do.” 

“ Who’s that out there? ” he demanded, point- 
ing a dramatic finger to the bar door. 

“How should I know? I never saw him till 
yesterday,” I answered, with perfect truth. 

“ You damned liar ! ” he stormed, thumping the 
table with his fist. “ If you’d never seen him be- 


46 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

fore why did he speak to you as he went out last 
night? If you’d never seen him before why have 
you avoided him all the morning? Why haven’t 
you done out the tap-room this morning as you al- 
ways do first, you snivelling, artful little devil, 
you!” and he came round the table with fist 
clenched threateningly, as if by his very violence he 
would knock the truth out of me. 

But I shrunk from him never an inch. Boldly 
I stood upright with head thrown back, giving him 
look for look and scorn for scorn. 

“ Oh I how can you ? ” I cried wildly. “ Is it not 
enough that you have crushed me always in the 
dirt, deprived me of everything that I should look 
upon as mine by right, taken all the joy out of 
my life, stifled all my hopes and blasted all my 
longings in order that you might save a potboy’s 
wages, but that now you must brand me as a liar? 
I am a liar! I am wo/ a liar! And you know 
I’m not a liar. I won’t stand that from any one ! ” 

After which I broke down completely and blub- 
bered like the child I was, while he stood by re- 
garding me with frightened eyes. 

“ What did you try to keep out of his way 
for? ” he demanded in more reasonable tones. 

“ Because I’m afraid of him,” I answered, wip- 
ing my eyes. 

“ Then you have met him before? ” he queried, 
quickly. 


MY MOTHER’S ILL HEALTH 


47 


“ Not before yesterday as I told you,” I replied, 
equally quick to perceive the trap he laid for me. 
“ He attacked me yesterday afternoon, with a 
knife, in Ravenhurst woods.” 

His jaw dropped in genuine surprise. 

“ Attacked you ? What for ? ” 

“ Because I fell over him.” 

“ What do you mean? ” 

“ I was running after a hare and he was lying 
asleep in the bracken, so I fell right over him and 
he went for me with a knife — and he’d a stabbed 
me, too, if old Alec hadn’t come up and driven 
him off.” 

Then a strange thing happened, the like of 
which I had never experienced before. My 
father came over to me and patted my shoulder, 
and by the way he did it I could feel he was 
ashamed. 

“ Jim,” he said, quite kindly, “ you’re not such 
a bad sort, Jim. You run and clean that tap- 
room. I’ll keep an eye on him. But finish your 
breakfast first.” 

So when I had quite recovered my composure 
out into the lion’s den went Daniel, and the watch- 
ful eye of Father kept the savage beast at bay. 

All that day Mother kept her room, while 
Father and I picnicked on sandwiches and banbury 
cakes, and when I went up and offered to make 
her some beef tea, she would have none of it 


48 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

but looked so pale and hollow-eyed and stricken 
withal that I would have tried to kiss some com- 
fort into her had she but given me the slightest 
encouragement. All she did was to grip me pas- 
sionately by the hands. 

“ Jimmy,” she begged, hoarsely, “ don’t you 
ever speak to that man in the bar or let your 
father know I mentioned him.” 


CHAPTER VI 


SATAN BARGAINS WITH BEELZEBUB 

The next day was like its predecessor. Mother 
kept to her room, looking very ill and taking little 
nourishment; Father was none too sweet from the 
bad night he’d had and the foreign tramp, who 
was again our first visitor and remained with us, 
till closing time, talked continuously with Father 
throughout the morning, and interfered with no- 
body. The day after he was not so early. 
Therefore Mother ventured down to breakfast, 
retiring again to her room the moment our daily 
visitor arrived, this time in all the glory of a new 
ready made suit, and Father’s eyes as he watched 
her departure were half shut and so full of mean- 
ing, that I was relieved when, during his absence 
in the afternoon, the distillers came and I, as was 
my custom, went down into the spirit cellar to 
superintend the filling of the casks. 

In the corner of the tap-room, under the table, 
there was a round hole in the floor, usually plugged 
with a great wooden bung which, on distiller’s 
days, was removed so that the men by dropping 
a pipe down could more easily fill the great casks 
49 


50 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

than by carrying the heavy puncheons down the 
stairs; and it was my duty to climb the steps and 
insert the end of the pipe into the top of the cask 
destined to contain whatever spirit they might 
have brought. 

I had heard Bill Blay’s shuffling step come in 
soon after I had gone down and was still on the 
top of the ladder, replacing the bung in the rum 
cask, when the sound of squeaky boots across the 
floor came to my ears through the hole above, 
and the voice of old Bill raised in much surprise. 

‘‘Why, Beppo!” he exclaimed. “Well, I 
never! Flow long have you been back? ” 

“Is it William?” demanded the voice of the 
Italian. “ Holy smoke, I thought you was dead.” 

Hearty laughter broke from that doddering old 
lump of senility at this retort, and though I could 
not see him yet I could picture him wiping his 
rheumy eyes. 

“Dead! That’s a good un. Dead! Oh lor! 
you won’t beat that.” 

While he was thus speaking squeaky boots went 
over to the bar, halted a bit, then went back again, 
and I heard the pots ground on the table just over 
my head. 

“You see, William? Look! I suppose you 
still drink beer ! ” said Beppo invitingly. 

“Wot, me?” replied Bill, his mirth checked 
for a moment. “ Still drink beer? Oh lor! Me 


SATAN BARGAINS 


51 


still drink beer ? If that don’t cap the t’other one. 
I shan’t drink beer when I’m dead. You may bet 
on that, Beppo,” he concluded with sudden bril- 
liance. 

After a while Beppo’s voice sounded in sub- 
dued enquiry. 

“ You gettin’ along alright, hey? ” 

“ Pretty fair, Beppo, pretty fair, though there 
ain’t much an old coachman can do nowadays, 
what with all them motors and things about.” 

“ What you do for a living, hey? ” 

“ Nothin’. ’Ow can I do anythin’ with me 
’ands like this ’ere, all crooked up with roomatiz? 
Why I can’t ’old the reins with them ’ands, an’ my 
feet — w’y — you saw the way I come in didn’t 
yer ? ” 

“ You was ’ere when I come.” 

‘‘Ah! so I was! Look at that! There’s a 
foot for yer, and t’other one ain’t no better. W’y 
I ain’t been able to do nothin’ ’ardly for the last 
ten year or more.” 

“ Ha! that was ver’ bad. Say? ’Ow you live 
den, hey? ” 

“ W’y as ter that — Wot, ’ave yer brought the 
young guvnor ’ome arter all?” 

“ No — ’e stay dere. Chioggia. ’E go to 
Hell for me. I come away. I want to see my ole 
pal.” 

“ Wot ? ’E ain’t come back then ? ” 


52 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 


“ No.” 

“You ain’t left ’is service, ’ave yer? Fallen 
out with him like arter all these years? ” 

“ P’st! ’E is a swine. I dress ’im and shave 
’im and keep ’im out of trouble for nineteen year, 
and den one day ’e kick me — like dat — ’ere — 
and den — ha ! I stick ’im good — like dat. But 
’ow you live, hey? ” 

“ Stick ’im, did yer? Did yer ’urt ’im? ” 

“ No, it was only cut — in de neck — ’ere.” 

“ I s’pose you run for it then, didn’t yer? I 
say I s’pose you cleared off then? ” 

“ I ’ave been to sea for two year — steward — 
dog’s life — den I go America an’ work all over 
de shop, den I come back for see ole pals.” 

“ Been up to the ’ouse? ” 

“ You go dere?” 

“ I said ’ave you been up. Seen the old girl? ” 
“ ’Er ladyship, she still live dere, hey? ” 

“ Wearin’ well, ain’t she? ’Aughty as ever, 
ain’t she? ” 

“Ha!” 

“ Wot did she say w’en she see you? ” 

“ She surprise of course. She ask me about 
Sir Edward. She say she see you often, too.” 

“ See me often? ” 

“ Yes, she say you come for your pension reg’- 
lar.” 

I believe this was a shot in the dark, but whether 


SATAN BARGAINS 


53 


it was or not it served to make old Blay very wary, 
for in spite of a good deal of fishing he ventured 
on nothing more incriminating than a grunt. 

“ Say, William,” Beppo enquired, with great 
cordiality, “ you ’ave ’nother one, old cock, hey? ” 

“ Ah, I don’t mind, seein’ it’s you.” 

Again the squeaky boots went to and fro and 
again the pots grounded on the table above. 

“What about Matilda? Hey?” came Bep- 
po’s cajoling purr. 

“ Well, wot about ’er? ” parried Bill Blay. 

“ She still alive, hey? ” 

“ Wot, ain’t yer seen ’er? ” 

“ I seen ’er, yes, but I ’ave not spik.” 

“ Wearin’ well, ain’t she? ” 

A pause. 

“ William.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ ’Ave anoder drink.” 

“ Flush, ain’t yer? ” croaked old Bill. 

“ I ’ave save a bit — I please to see you, my ole 
cock.” 

“Well — thank yer — just one more.” 

Another journey of squeaky boots. 

“ Well — William — ’ere’s to us and ’er — an’ 
may ’e never know.” 

“Who?” 

“ Ole Sturgess.” 

“ Not if I can ’elp it. ’Ere’s luck! ” 


54 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Not if dey can ’elp it, you mean.” 

“Who’s they?” 

“ Matilda and ’er Ladyship — hey?” 

There was a sound like a slap. I believe it was 
Beppo’s hand on old Bill’s back, followed by up- 
roarious laughter. 

“ William, s’pose I tell ’im?” 

“ No, no, no ! you mustn’t do that — It 
wouldn’t be fair to Jim.” 

“It would not be fair to — you! Hey? 
Haha!” 

Then of a sudden Beppo’s good humour 
changed to a threatening snarl. 

“ Look ’ere, my ole cock,” he said, hoarsely, 
“ you give me arf dat. See? ” 

“ Arf o’ wot?” 

“ Arf of wot you’re bleedin’ dose two women 
for, or I’ll tell ole Sturgess an’ Jim too.” 

“ I ain’t gettin’ nothin’ out of them.” 

“ Don’t you go play no Goddam innocent stunts 
on me, or I spoil your game damn quick. See? ” 

Bill blustered in impotent fury at this and said 
something about giving him in charge, whereat 
Beppo’s mirth broke out anew, although it was sub- 
dued. 

“ Now, my friend, where you live, hey? ” 

“ Find out.” 

“ Dat is what I am goin’ to do. I am goin’ to 
stop right ’ere until you go an’ then I will follow 


SATAN BARGAINS 


55 

you ’ome. I am tired of sleepin’ in de woods. 
You’d like a lodger, hey? ” 

“ I’ll see you damned first.” 

“ Alright, just as you please,” and squeaky 
boots got up and went to the bar. 

“ Mistaire Sturgess.” 

“ Hullo! ” answered Father’s voice. 

There was a great scuffling as Bill Blay scram- 
bled up and went after the Italian and there fol- 
lowed an agitated whispering in a tone so low I 
caught no word of it. 

“ Yes, what is it? ” came Father’s voice, waxing 
impatient. 

“ I was wondering, Mistaire Sturgess, if you 
could tell me of anywhere where I could find a 
good lodging.” 

Before Father could answer old Bill Blay, in a 
quavery voice which he strove manfully to control, 
took up the tale. 

“ W’y as to that, I’ve got a very nice little cot- 
tage where I’d be right glad to ’ave some one to 
keep me company,” said he. 

“ Dat is ver’ kind of you,” answered the Italian, 
and I could imagine the gleaming of his teeth. 
“ We are already such friends nothing would 
suit me better. I will ’ave a drink wid you 
on dat an’ den we will go round in time for tea, 
hey?” 

So, calling for a mixed Vermouth which Bill 


56 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

paid for, they drank in silence and departed; 
whereat I climbed down from my perch, and going 
up-stairs replaced the wooden bung within the 
floor. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE STORM GATHERS AND BREAKS 

The afternoon was oppressive and overcast, and 
I doubly felt the burden of the crates as I tramped 
mile after mile through the village and surround- 
ing district, delivering bottles of beer. 

There was a stillness in the air, in the grass by 
the wayside, in the leaves of the trees and bushes, 
everywhere but in my heart. In my heart there 
was a raging tornado, a veritable maelstrom of 
conflicting doubts which so engrossed me that 
many a time I caught myself trudging blindly on, 
half a mile out of my way. 

Was ever a lad so sore perplexed as I? What 
secret was it these two plotters held between 
them? How had the reprobate old coachman 
been bleeding my mother and Lady Lorrilow? 
And did bleeding mean extorting money from 
them? Why that was what men called blackmail, 
a horrible crime punished by years and years of 
imprisonment, if not by life itself. I stopped still 
in my tracks and, putting down my basket, stared 
angrily at the western sky. The blackguards! 
The scoundrels! How dare they? And raising 

57 


58 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

my puny fists to heaven I swore to have it out with 
them, and force my mother to tell me all ere yet 
another day was born. 

The sky was becoming as black as night now 
and great banks of darkling cloud' obscured the 
setting sun. Fitful gusts of wind hurried me 
home, and fallen leaves, wild and excited, raced 
me on the way, falling over each other in their 
panic until lukewarm drops of rain caught them 
and toppled them over one by one to lay, panting 
and exhausted, on their brown and golden sides. 

Father was savagely drunk when I returned and 
bullied me roundly for dawdling, and when I went 
up-stairs to Mother she railed at me so when I 
mentioned Beppo’s name, and looked so wild and 
distraught that I postponed my investigation till 
a more propitious time. 

All that evening the storm raged with uncon- 
trolled ferocity, the wind blustering, shrieking and 
moaning round the house, blowing in great gusts 
of rain every time the door opened to admit a 
soaking customer ; every little while vivid veins of 
liquid light blazed athwart the sky followed by 
deafening booms, which trailed into growls and 
cracklings as the thunder claps subsided. 

Spurred on by his savage humour I helped 
Father that night as I never had before, and was 
glad indeed when I heard the hour of closing ring 
out from the clock of the parish church. 


STORM GATHERS AND BREAKS 59 

Bustling about I saw the last unwilling wayfarer 
upon his way, and was putting out the lamp at the 
door when Beppo sprang suddenly from the dark- 
ness and thrusting a letter into my hand, whis- 
pered, “ for your moder,” and vanished again. 

Startled and surprised at his advent I held it in 
my hand, and had hardly bolted the door inside 
when Father snatched it from me and with one 
blow of his cowardly fist beat me senseless to the 
floor. 


I opened my eyes and stared about me. I was 
uncommonly cold, and my bed seemed unusually 
hard. Also, I was aware in a dim way that some 
one, I knew not who, had a splitting headache. 
I remember that I felt sorry for him and won- 
dered who it was. Then sighing deeply I sank 
back into the void. . . . Again I was shocked to 
discover that I had been awake for some time. I 
wondered what caused the door to rattle and what 
were those sounds of heavy conflict. Of a sudden 
I raised myself onto my elbow, wide awake now, 
and ears alert to catch a repetition of the sound 
that had alarmed me, a sound so like a shriek of 
mortal anguish that it penetrated to the very core 
of my being and sent a thrill of horror to my 
finger tips. 

As I thus reclined memory reasserted itself with 


6o JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

a flash. I knew that my bed was hard because it 
was the floor of the bar on which I had fallen. 
I knew that I felt cold because of the wind that 
whistled in savage fury through the space below 
the door. I knew that the head that ached was 
my own. And because of these things I was filled 
with a great resentment towards my brutal father 
and a fear of him beyond my understanding. 

A vivid flash of lightning lit up every corner of 
the bar. So vivid and intense was it that I caught 
in its momentary glare the names on the little, 
earthen port and sherry barrels on the shelf be- 
hind the bar, and it gave me a start of surprise 
to see the glint of the money still uncounted in the 
till. The booming artillery of God followed so 
rapidly that the air was still aglare with the after- 
glow of the lightning, and even above the awful 
cataclysm I plainly heard the rip and thud as the 
giant trees beyond the house came crashing to the 
earth. A sound as of moaning filled the air out- 
side and in, and so persistent was it that I was 
moved to fancy that some one lay grievously hurt 
on our doorstep and unlocked the door to see. 
The fury of the wind and rain swept me back into 
the bar, and before I could bolt the door another 
sound within the house arrested me, the sound of 
running water, so, going noiselessly to the door 
leading from the bars to the house, I peered cau- 
tiously into the gloom. 


STORM GATHERS AND BREAKS 6i 


The lavatory door was open and the gas lit. 
I saw my father in his shirtsleeves, washing his 
hands in the water that flowed from the tap. 
Such a sensation of mortal dread came over me 
at sight of him that I dared not pass him to go to 
bed. So like a frightened rabbit I slipped down 
the cellar steps and scrambled to the farthest cor- 
ner of the spirit cellar. 

In a little while I caught the sound of my 
father’s footsteps shuffling carefully along the pas- 
sage to the bar. I heard him move, with an eter- 
nity of time between each step. I heard him stop 
as if perplexed. Then there came dull and muf- 
fled sounds as if he groped around under forms 
and tables. I knew with instinctive terror he was 
searching for me. 

A sudden furious gust blew open the door I had 
forgotten to lock. He staggered back to the 
table, where he remained, for hours it seemed to 
me, then went cautiously to the door muttering to 
himself. After a bit I heard him shut it to and, 
with normal step, busy himself about the bar. I 
heard the chink of money and then his hurried 
footsteps go over to the door again, which closed 
with a bang, and all was still. 

The deathly silence that followed so unnerved 
me that I shivered as with an ague, but gradually 
I found myself nodding with a great weariness, 
awaking with a start and heart aflutter at every 


62 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

slightest sound till, in the fulness of time, it came 
to pass that my head bowed to my breast and I 
fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

A repeated drumming and singing in a high 
pitched voice slowly forced itself into my under- 
standing. A bright shaft of sunlight was beating 
down through the ventilator, and I realised with 
a start that it was day and the Lord only knew 
what time it was. 

I felt much better now, and the fear of my 
father had vanished. The memories of the day 
before came to me in a flood. I was ready to face 
him now and, come what might, I was resolved to 
leave his roof and seek my fortune in the great 
world beyond. ^ 

So I hurried up into the bar, and there was 
Bob Manners, the milkman, banging away on the 
counter while he roused the very echoes with his 
melodious yodeling, and the morning sun was 
streaming through the windows from a sky that 
was blue and cloudless. 

“ Well, Jim,” he greeted me, boisterously, 
“ what’s come to you all this morning? Did you 
all get so drunk last night that you can’t come 
down before this? And the front door open into 
the bargain! Wot’s up? Did you have a wed- 
ding yesterday or a funeral? ” 

I glanced up at the clock and found to my hor- 
ror it was half past eight 1 


STORM GATHERS AND BREAKS 63 

“ Nice morning, Bob, isn’t it, after the storm? ” 
I said, foolishly. 

“ Nice morning 1 I should say it was, and me 
standing here and knocking like I don’t know wTat 
for the last twenty minutes. I might have helped 
myself to all the stuff on the shelves and pinched 
the till into the bargain, only there ain’t anything 
in it. Give us a mild and bitter, Jim, and find 
out how much milk you want. And hurry up, 
there’s a good chap.” 

I drew the beer, still grinning shamefacedly, 
and opened the door to the bar-parlour. 

“ Mother ! ” I called, “ how much milk this 
morning? Mother! Here’s Bob Manners! 
How much milk do you want? ” 

Getting no answer I entered the house and ran 
quickly up-stairs to my parents’ bedroom. I was 
still too muddled and confused with the night’s 
adventures to wonder that neither one of them 
was up and about as usual. I was, also, ashamed 
to be caught so dirty and dishevelled, so that in my 
anxiety to be rid of Bob I knocked on the door and 
called again. And presently, getting no answer, 
I opened the door and looked into the room. 

The sight that met my eyes I will carry with 
me to my dying day. The bedroom was in the 
wildest disorder, the bedclothes disarranged and 
torn, a chair turned on its side, the mirror 
smashed, the crocks from off the washstand shiv- 


64 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

ered in a thousand pieces on the floor, the walls 
bespattered and carpet drenched in foul and awful 
stains, and the woman to whom I had yearned so 
long for love lying across the fireplace, partly 
dressed, with arms outstretched, eyes fixed and 
staring in piteous appeal, slashed and stabbed 
with many a gaping wound and stained with dried 
and darkling blood ! 

With wailing cries of horror, I rushed out 
that shambles down the stairs into the bar, and 
throwing myself into the astonished arms of Bob 
Manners, sobbed out my soul’s deep agony. 

“ Oh, Bob, it’s awful! Awful! ” 

I broke down completely under the weight of my 
misfortunes, and cried and cried and cried, as I 
had never cried before. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE CORONER’S VERDICT 

Of what followed on that fateful day I can tell you 
nothing with distinctness. All that I can now re- 
call with any clearness being the look of chagrin 
on the face of Bob Manners when, in my unseeing 
panic, I kicked over his can of milk. Neighbours 
came in and out, and policemen guarded the locked 
doors and interrogated every one. One of them 
sealed the bedroom door until the coroner was 
brought, and all was bustle and stir and excite- 
ment, and Father was nowhere to be found, so I 
slept the night at the sergeant’s house. 

The inquest came in due time and if you desire 
a good and full description thereof take any Sun- 
day paper and read any one of those ghoulish tales 
especially dished up for Sabbath consumption. It 
was the same old sordid tale, with one man’s evi- 
dence pointing this way and another’s that; the 
twelve good men and true, being led first in one 
direction and then in the other, and the grave and 
learned coroner, like the good sheep dog he was, 
bringing them at last into one sure fold of a true 
and faithful verdict. 


65 


66 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

Father’s disappearance concerned me not a 
whit, and though I firmly believed that he was the 
author of our woe, yet I was careful to make no 
comment on that awful night beyond mention- 
ing that he had struck me, and that I had lain 
where I had fallen for hours before creeping 
down to the cellar to sleep. For was he not my 
father? 

I can see myself now facing the coroner, stand- 
ing at the table in the public bar with hands clasped 
behind my back, answering every question put to 
me truthfully, according to my oath, but as tersely 
as I could for very fear that my unbridled lips 
should let slip one word whereby the guilt of mur- 
der could be fastened on my father’s soul. 

I mentioned not a word of the conversation I 
had overheard; but I told of the letter, the meet- 
ing in the woods and Beppo’s daily visits. As to 
Father not being home when Bob Manners’ drum- 
ming brought me startled from my hiding place, 
that was a frequent occurrence, for many a time 
did he creep out o’ nights when honest folk were 
asleep and slink in with the morning dews, laden 
down with game. But his continued disappear- 
ance was the cause of sore suspicion to those yeo- 
men jurors and the coroner. Search was made 
high and low through all the countryside ; stations 
were watched, and every constable in the county 
exerted himself with unceasing vigour. Scotland 


THE CORONER’S VERDICT 67 

Yard came down and drank our waters, and it was 
then that another discovery was made. 

Beppo had gone, too, leaving only one trace 
and that was his knife, that same coarse, villainous 
weapon he had brandished in my face on my last 
holiday. Blay found it near the stream, all caked 
with mud and other stains, in a bracken covered 
burrow by the bridge. All around there were 
signs of strife and struggling, with trampled mud 
and bruised and broken grass, and near it was a 
hat and coat — and the hat and coat belonged to 
my father ! 

So at the next inquiry behold Billy Blay, garru- 
lous and truculent, spitting out his spite against his 
lodger, telling how he came and forced acquain- 
tance, how he talked of dark and bloody do- 
ings in the past, how he was a pauper and a 
vagrant and a pestilent disturber of our rustic 
peace. So much did he say and so fast did he say 
it and there was such a light of joy in his eyes, that 
the coroner was fain to pull him up, and tell him 
in his sternest tones to keep to the point of the 
enquiry. I gazed at him wide eyed and mouth 
agape, but never a hint did he give of the battle 
of wits in the bar, or of that dark secret that 
Beppo was so keen to share, and I was glad that I 
had held my tongue for suspicion is but suspicion 
after all. 

And so it came to pass that in the fulness of 


68 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

time he who was called the foreman, arose, and 
coughing in his embarrassment at being thus con- 
spicuous, blushed like a raspberry and delivered 
himself in this wise : 

“ Doctor Smart, ahem, I mean, Sir — er — 
Mister Crowner, we’m all of us carefully consid- 
ered wot the witnesses ’ave said wot ’ave been 
called before us in this ’ere matter, — a touching 
on this ’ere ’orrible tragedy, ahem, I should say in 
this ’ere case, sir — er — Mister Crowner, and 
with great respect, sir, and we’ve come to the con- 
clusion — er — to the conclusion that arter doo 
consideration and, if I may say it. Sir, er — Mis- 
ter Crowner, takin’ into consideration them booti- 
ful words wot so lately fell from your lips. Doctor 
— er — Mister Smart — er — ahem, Crowner, 
that the departed lady met ’er end, sir, by the ’and 
o’ some person or other and we’m danged if we 
quite know who it is, sir, and there y’are.” 

“ But I can hardly be expected to accept that 
as a verdict,” remonstrated the coroner, mildly. 
“ Do you mean that you are all agreed that the 
deceased was wilfully murdered? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Wilfully murdered by some person? ” 

“ Yes, sir. By either Mister Sturgess or the 
Hytalian.” 

“ But that there is not sufficient evidence as to 
whom?” went on the coroner, calmly. 


THE CORONER’S VERDICT 69 

“ Yes, sir,” replied the foreman, “ that’s just 
what I said.” 

“ Then,” said the coroner, “ with that verdict 
I am entirely in accord,” and bowing formally to 
the jury he dismissed the court. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE MOMENTOUS BICYCLE 

Long ere the events just recorded had come to 
pass all that remained of my poor mother was laid 
to rest, and with her, as far as I knew, the secret 
that had soured her life. That dreary day with all 
its sable pomp and muffled heartache, and the ones 
preceding it, were dismal days for me beyond be- 
lief; so that my heart bounded with great joy on 
receipt of the following letter in almost unintelli- 
gible caligraphy, the spirit of which reached my 
hungry soul before my eyes had mastered half its 
sentences. 

103 Mall Road, 
London, 

July, 18—. 

My poor dear boy : 

I have heard of the base and scurvy fate which 
has overtaken you. Why is it that my prince so 
young and fresh should be bowed down ere yet 
the bloom of youth has left his cheek? Treach- 
ery is afoot, treason base and bloody stalks naked 
and unashamed amid your sylvan solitudes. Grim 
crime and utter desolation hold high revelry about 
my prince’s abode and he stands orphaned and 
70 


THE MOMENTOUS BICYCLE 


71 

alone calling from out of the murk of blood for 
Hubert’s protecting shadow. 

My dear boy, here in my humble haunt there is a 
bed, a poor one but none so poor that you need 
scorn it, a chair, and a table which though it does 
not often groan, still holds enough that there is 
some to spare for you. 

My Arthur, this mighty city is calling you from 
out your burrow. It holds rich gifts in both its 
hands for your acceptance. Come, and in the 
glowing radiance of its kindly sun let that great 
heavenly spark within your breast grow and 
expand, and finally shame the sun by its efful- 
gence ! 

I cannot tell you how my heart bleeds for you, 
dear boy. Every day I think of you in your dis- 
tress. Every night I weep for you. And 
though fate is so hard in her immutable decrees 
that she denies me the wherewithal to hasten to 
your side as my old heart dictates, still I am with 
you always in spirit and I know that my noble 
prince will not refuse the wish of Hubert to have 
his company. 

Looking forward soon to the great and lasting 
joy of seeing you, 

Believe me, my dear boy, 

Always your sincere friend, 

Alexander Hannibal Pond. 

How I hugged that letter to my bosom, and 
how I kissed it ! I locked myself within my small 


72 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

room at the sergeant’s house and laughed for joy, 
and, for the first time, burst into scalding tears 
over those friendly words of sympathy. 

I had never known till then how many there 
were in this world who were concerned about my 
welfare. Uncles, aunts and cousins came to at- 
tend the last sad rites, many of whom I had never 
even heard of, and when we were all assembled 
round the table in the old bar-parlour numerous 
were the plans laid out for my acceptance. Uncle 
Bob, who was a jobbing printer in a small way in 
a midland city, offered to apprentice me for five 
years for nothing; Uncle Frank, who was a 
butcher, thought that an open air life carrying 
meat upon a wooden tray were much more healthy 
for me ; and Uncle William, who was like father, 
was so engrossed in weighing up all the points in 
the problems before him that he uttered never a 
word, but when discussion was at its highest, fin- 
ished up the port and fell asleep. 

Then the brewers came to seize the house for 
debt, but the distillers got there first and there 
was a fine to-do. And one day Mister Bailey, 
Lady Lorrilow’s agent, offered me a hundred 
pounds and my passage money if I would go to 
Canada, and was angry when I laughed at him. 
The sergeant, who was very kind to me through all 
my trouble, wrote to the insurance company about 
getting Mother’s insurance for me, but as Father 


THE MOMENTOUS BICYCLE 


73 


was her next of kin and he was missing, they re- 
fused to pay anything. 

The vicar, who was chairman of a local slate 
club of which Mother and I were members, im- 
posed a shilling levy and as there were a hundred 
and forty members it realised seven pounds. To 
this sum he added five which he said was from a 
nameless friend. He, also, offered to get me 
work, but I told him a friend in London wished 
me to go there so that I might pursue my artistic 
studies. And good Bob Manners, who served 
most of our customers with milk, took upon him- 
self a house to house collection and raised, by 
sheer hard wagging of his most persuasive tongue, 
four pounds, seven shillings and a halfpenny! 

Fred Powell, the grocer’s boy, hearing I was off 
to London offered me his bicycle for three pounds 
ten, and as it looked a good bicycle, being bright as 
to enamel and very radiant as to plated part, I 
became its owner; and when his work was done o’ 
nights he taught me how to ride it. 

And so it came to pass that I packed up my 
paints, a sketching block and a waterproof, and 
putting my toy pistol and two pounds in my pocket 
for pressing emergencies went to the post office, 
and sent Alec a letter accepting his kind offer and 
enclosing all my money to his care. I promised 
to be with him inside a week. 

There was a little dispute with the postmistress 


74 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

over the address, which she considered insufficient; 
but having shown her the letter and the West 
Strand postmark on the envelope, she added W. 
C. to the inscription, and gaily mounting my iron 
steed I rode out into the lists with fate. 






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BOOK II 

THE PRINCESS 

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CHAPTER I 


MISADVENTURES 

Hey for the dimpling downs! 

Ho for the glist’ning glade! 

Ha ha for the fields flung far 

And the earth that the good Lord made! 

So sang my heart as down the glade I sailed or 
up the gentle rise I panted, drunk with the revelry 
of wild life ; for wild was the wind that fanned my 
brow, wild was the verdure bordered road, and 
wild the ceaseless anthem of the wild things in 
the woods beyond. Hour after hour I sped thus 
until the pace and the fierceness of the summer sun 
began to tell on me, and coming to a little way- 
side shop, where there swung a battered sign 
that told of tea, I realised that I was hungry 
and thirsty, so getting down from my mount I 
opened the little gate and sat down on the time 
worn bench. 

Having rested and refreshed myself and paid 
my score with a fine air of indifference befitting 
such a man of means as I, for it amounted in all 
to the large sum of tenpence, I got again upon my 
bike and pedalled eastward. While running 
down a small and easy hill where it was necessary 

77 


78 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

to put the brake on, I found to my fear and 
chagrin that the wheels went ever faster in spite 
of my precaution, so that I was obliged to back 
pedal for very life; and when, having thus re- 
gained control, I dismounted, I discovered that the 
rubber grips were gone, and my safety depended 
solely on my pedals. I sat down by the wayside 
to think the matter over. 

I recalled that all that day I had flown along 
enchanted and such things as brakes had clean es- 
caped my notice, moreover I had not need to 
bother overmuch, for my stomach being empty 
and my spirit all aflame I cared not what became 
of me. But now, I recalled again that during my 
lessons on this self same steed, Fred Powell had 
instructed me in the art of back pedalling, and 
had pointed, out how unwise it was to pin one’s 
faith in brakes when one’s own sturdy legs were 
more to be depended on. 

So being angry with myself that I had given 
away to fear, I placed the bike against the hedge 
and sat on the bank to rest, and as I sat and 
gazed around, the sun was setting in a flambent 
fury behind the stately spires of Fimbourne Abbey 
that topped the wooded heights. 

So entranced was I by all its vivid splendour 
that taking out my little water pot, I filled it in the 
stream beside the bridge, and unstrapping my 
paints and sketching block from their place behind 


MISADVENTURES 


79 

the saddle, I scrambled up the bank and was soon 
lost to all things in my work. 

I caught the fleeting salmon on the clouds, the 
opalescent glows that tinged the sky, the fire flam- 
ing on the trees, and the purple spires with the 
dying rays bringing out all their traceries. With 
fevered haste I laboured, singing for pure joy the 
while I worked, and having finished it I ran my 
knife around the block, freeing the top sheet, and 
was glad because it pleased me. One thing only 
was I sorry about and that was that I was too un- 
trained to reproduce the sweet expectant hush 
that lay all round, for nature in her tenderest mood 
was settling down to rest. The thrushes sang a 
good night song, rooks cawed grumpily overhead 
and winged their heavy flight to roost, small 
feathered things twittered sleepily in a thousand 
treble tones, while the buzz of homing insects and 
the lowing of unseen cattle rounded off the sym- 
phony. 

Suddenly my attention was attracted by a nearer 
noise, and turning with a start I beheld a ragged 
man wheeling off my machine. Gathering up my 
things I started after him. He tried to mount, 
but being out of practice or, because he had a fear 
of me, he found the job too difficult, so down the 
dusty road he ran, wheeling my machine before 
him ; with me after him angrily shouting and hurl- 
ing awful threats. After a little while he tired of 


8o JIM -- UNCLASSIFIED 

his race and stopping in the road, with the bicycle 
held behind his back, faced his fierce pursuer. 

Seeing how small and insignificant I was he 
laughed to think he’d flown away from me, and 
letting fall the bike upon the wayside came at me 
with a gnarled and knobby cudgel in his fist. I 
quailed as he approached and feared my bike and 
I were like to part forever, for nimble as I was 
I could not hope for anything but violence and 
cruel blows at the hands of such a burly tramp. 
Just then putting my hand in my pocket to protect 
my precious paints, my fingers fell on the barrel 
of my toy pistol. I have spoken of this pistol 
once before, of how it worked with double action, 
and might in a fading light even be mistaken for a 
real one, especially by a person who, like this thief 
before me, had crime upon his conscience. So 
when he came at me with cautious tread, suddenly 
I whipped my toy out my pocket and laying the 
gleaming barrel upon my sleeve advanced with 
shaking knees upon my foe. 

He stood like one transfixed for an instant, then 
rising upright turned and ran again for the 
machine; but my younger legs were far too swift 
for him this time, so that when he reached it there 
stood I, astride my fallen steed, flashing fierce de- 
fiance at him from gleaming eyes and hand. The 
distant purring of a motor coming down the road 
reached his ears, and making up his mind in one 


MISADVENTURES 


swift flash, he scrambled through the hedge and 
slunk to the shelter of the woods. 

Quick as thought I jerked my bicycle right side 
up and wheeled it on to the path in safety just as 
a large red car passed rapidly over the spot 
whereon it had so lately lain. 

I watched the car out of sight, then gathering 
my sketching materials from out the several 
pockets wherein I had so hurriedly stored them, 
fell to strapping them again in place behind the 
saddle. At once I missed my water pot and after 
that my drawing, so I must needs retrace my steps 
along the dusty road for fear that in my eagerness 
to save my bike I had dropped them by the way- 
side. Sure enough my pot was there, lying on its 
side with its mouth choked with mud; but though 
I searched for near an hour, perilously near to 
tears, my picture was as surely gone as was the 
twilight scene which had inspired it ! 


CHAPTER II 


ENTER THE HEROINE 

Night found me pedalling wearily across an open 
moorland, knowing nothing of my whereabouts; 
but as it was very warm and there was a plentitude 
of shrubs with deep recesses full of invitation, I 
soon wheeled my machine off the road and spread- 
ing 'my waterproof on the ground, lay down be- 
neath a spreading thorn. 

A gentle rustle at my feet caused my heart to 
thump and the hair stood up upon my head; but 
I laughed when I discovered a rabbit nibbling 
busily scarce a yard from where I lay, and beyond 
him another and yet another and scores and scores 
of them in every open glade. Rising very warily 
I sat up and, putting my fingers between my teeth, 
blew a shrill blast. On an instant the lambent 
moon shone on a field of dancing snowflakes as 
their little ghostly tails flitted here and there in an 
ecstasy of panic, and all had vanished save two 
which bobbed and jumped for one more uncertain 
moment and then they, too, were gone. Laugh- 
ing for pure mischief that I had so fully repaid 
the scare they had given me I lay back again, and 

S2 


ENTER THE HEROINE 83 

watched the stars, till they and all things drifted 
into oblivion. 

The noisy carolling of larks aroused me. I 
espied a farmhouse high upon a rise, glaring white 
against the blue and eagerly I wheeled toward 
it. 

Soon I was in the great kitchen, seated alone at 
a great table, with hams suspended from the raf- 
ters above my head and two great sides of bacon 
curing in the chimney, while a very china shop of 
crockery twinkled at me from the dresser. A 
large tabby cat purred eternal friendship beside 
me and a kitten played unceasingly with my boot 
lace on the red brick floor below. A canary sang 
a frantic song between the much beflowered cur- 
tains, a thrush answered from its wicker cage 
without, the clamour of ducks and geese vied with 
the cackling of fowls, while the grunting of pigs, 
the lowing of kine and the barking of a large re- 
triever combined to make an excellent orchestra. 

Do not wonder that I am moved to describe this 
feast so fully when I say that it was the first meal 
I had ever sat down to free and untrammelled, 
and the last satisfying food I was destined to taste 
for many a weary day. Never before, nor since, 
have I tasted such eggs, such generous rashers, and 
such butter, fresh from the dairy. The scent of 
the coffee and the new made bread stayed with me 
throughout the day and, for a full hour, I sat feast- 


84 JIM UNCLASSIFIED 

ing until, from very repletion, I was obliged to call 
a truce and mount my bike again. 

“ When the gorse is out of flower then is kiss- 
ing out of fashion,” sing the sages of the West, 
and surely with such a riot of luxuriant colour as 
met my eager eyes that day it must have been the 
very festival of kissing, and all the world bent on 
loving ! 

The road turned sharply to the right through a 
double line of sentinel elms whose arms held high 
above their heads made a bridal arch under which 
I sped. There were sun-lit pasture lands beyond, 
so putting more of weight upon my pedals I 
checked the wild impulse of my steed and broke 
into song again. 

Clickety clack, 
ril never go back, 

While my name is Jack. 


What was wrong with the bicycle? Not being 
either a cyclist or a mechanic I could not say, all 
that I was certain of was that something serious 
was suddenly amiss, for the more I tried to bring 
her under control the faster she sped, while her 
whole frame seemed to shake with mocking laugh- 
ter. We were at the top of a long hill now, so 
I kept my hands firmly gripped upon the handles 
so that I might steer her clear of obstacles. I 
still was master of my destiny. So when I saw 


ENTER THE HEROINE 85 

that the road took a sharp curve to the right, full 
of hope that here the hill would surely end and 
rise again, I steered my maddened runaway 
around the bend. 

Then I saw a girl, coasting easily on a free 
wheel, come out into the road from a lane some 
way ahead of me while at the same time a drove 
of cattle meandered clumsily at the bottom of the 
hill ! I knew that I was at grips with fate ! 

Quick as light I reasoned out that if the cattle 
kept to my left side and the girl continued as she 
was, on the right, all would be well, so setting my 
teeth I steered straight for the middle way. But 
presently, without apparent motive a big black 
beast, detaching himself from the bunch, ambled 
across and with lowered head awaited the girl’s 
approach. Demoralised with fright she swerved 
first this way and then the other, while I called 
frantically to her to keep straight on. Unheedful 
of the consequences I steered straight between the 
two, and with the speed of an express train one 
of my handles locked with hers while the other 
drove with fearful force into the ribs of her as- 
sailant. 

The next moment, leaving my saddle like a shot 
from a gun, I sailed through the summer air in a 
graceful parabola straight into a field of wheat. 

A raucous bellowing filled the air, and, gazing 
over the hedge, I saw a man in corduroys trying 


36 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

to still a restless herd, while a boy of about my 
own age, plodded up the hill in frantic haste be- 
hind a sable steer, who cared not where he went 
so long as he put space between himself and the 
awful thing that had overtaken him. 

A faint whimpering came to me from a low 
thorn bush just inside the hedge, and glancing up 
I saw my little lady safely deposited upon the top 
and crying softly to herself. I reached up an 
awkward hand. She placed her own In it and 
after much manoeuvring with skirts, she dropped 
lightly to the ground. 

“ Thank you,” she said, breathlessly. ‘‘ Oh, 
thank you! You have saved my life.” 

I blushed a fiery red at this and grinning very 
sheepishly turned away my head, for I didn’t 
dare to look at her. 

“ You good, brave boy! ” she went on. You 
might have killed yourself! How can I ever 
thank you? ” 

“ Oh — It’s nothing. Miss,” I stammered. I 
— I — I couldn’t help it.” 

The next moment she had rushed to me and 
Impulsively throwing her warm young arms about 
my neck, had kissed me on the mouth! Was 
there ever such a situation? I wished that the 
earth would open and swallow me up. Still on 
the whole it was not unpleasant, so lifting up my 
eyes very modestly I gazed fully Into hers. 


ENTER THE HEROINE 


87 


Her eyes were violet I 

“ Oh, you’re not hurt then,” she said. “ I’m 
so glad.” 

“ Not a bit. Miss, thank you,” I answered. 
“ Are you? ” 

“ Oh, no ! ” she replied, “ just a little shaken, 
and you — you saved my life I Oh I that horrid 
cow I ” 

With her head on my shoulder she gave way to 
frantic sobs. Seeing her distraught and recalling 
how she had kissed me and thinking it might com- 
fort her, I raised her face and did the like to her. 

“ It wasn’t a cow,” I said. “ It was a bull.” 

She tore herself away from me, looking very 
coy and pink and very shocked and maidenly. 

“ Oh you bold boy! ” she scolded. “ Why did 
you do that? ” 

“ For the same reason that I ran into you,” I 
answered. “ Because I couldn’t help it.” 

“ But you must, you know,” she said, looking 
very full of reproof. “ If you couldn’t help sav- 
ing my life, you must at least help doing things like 
that, or I shall not like you.” 

“ You did it to me,” I retorted. 

“ That was gratitude,” she answered, “ and 
quite a different matter. Now help me over the 
hedge like a good boy and find my poor machine 
for me.” 

Climbing nimbly back over the hedge I took her 


88 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

in my arms, but very reverently this time. She 
was about my own age and a fairy for lightness, 
and her chestnut hair flew up in a great cloud 
around her head as she jumped down on to the 
path. 

Her bicycle lay under mine and they were badly 
mangled. Disentangling them with much of cun- 
ning strategy, I was moved to remark how poor 
and shabby my gallant steed appeared in contrast 
with the graceful lines of hers, and having stood it 
upright I saw with a sudden start that my chain 
was gone! 

“What’s done that?” I demanded, dum- 
founded. 

“Is it ruined? You must let my father buy 
you another bicycle, if it is.” 

“ No, miss,” I answered. “ I’ve just found 
out my chain is off and that’s the reason I came 
down the hill so fast and pitched you over the 
hedge.” 

“ And saved my life? ” 

“ Oh, no 1 I think it was you who saved 
mine.” 

“ But that bull would have tossed me if you 
hadn’t come.” 

“ And I would have charged the lot if you 
hadn’t swerved and filled up the only bit of road 
I could get through; and then I should have been 
done for.” 


ENTER THE HEROINE 


89 


She looked at me a moment with doubting eyes. 

“I don’t believe you. You’re telling fibs! 
You are trying to make out that it was all an acci- 
dent, because you won’t admit how brave you 
are.” 

“ Well, where’s the chain then? ” 

“ You’ll find it soon enough when I have gone,” 
she said, unconvinced. 

“ Search me,” I insisted. 

She put her tiny hands into my jacket pockets 
and took therefrom some broken crocks and the 
fragments of a toy pistol. 

“Why, what are these? ” she asked, laughing. 

At sight of them I was overcome with deep com- 
passion for myself. 

“ Oh dear I ” I cried, “ my pistol’s gone, and 
my poor old pot I ” 

“ Were you very fond of them? ” 

“ More than of anything else I’ve got,” I 
answered, with feeling. 

“ You funny boy. I am so sorry.” 

She popped them into her pocket. 

“What are you going to do with them?” I 
demanded, anxiously. 

“ Keep them of course. They are the broken 
lance and drinking horn of the gallant knight who 
saved me from the fiery dragon. I intend to keep 
them always so that when I look at them I’ll think 
of brave — What is your name? ” 


90 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ I am called Prince Arthur by those who love 
me,” I answered, smiling. 

‘‘Oh, how lovely!” she cried, clapping her 
hands with pure delight. “ Father always calls 
me Princess Ida, though my real name is Mar- 
gery.” 

“ Then Princess Ida you shall be to me, but — ” 
and I halted at my boldness, “ I too must have a 
token by which I can always remember the sweet 
princess who saved me from being mangled by the 
herd of wild bulls.” 

She was somewhat taken back at this; but being 
imbued with the spirit of romance she answered 
with a mocking bow. 

“ It is for Prince Arthur to ask and the Princess 
Ida will — consider his request.” 

My eyes glanced over her dainty form, noting 
the glistening eyes and ripe red lips, the dazzling, 
glorious hair that framed her soft young cheeks. 
There was a ribbon in her hair, so reaching out my 
hand I untied it and held it up before her eyes. 

“ This I will have, my fair princess,” I an- 
nounced, and twining it around my finger placed 
the silken roll within my pocket. 

So we gathered up our broken mounts, and now 
that the time was near for us to part I felt a sickly 
sinking in my breast. 

“ Which way do you go. Princess? ” I asked. 

“ Why back again. Prince, to my home up the 


ENTER THE HEROINE 


91 


lane yonder to change my things, while John takes 
my machine into the village to get it mended. 
Which way do you go?” 

“ Up the hill to find my chain and then to the 
same place as John, wherever that may be? ” 

“ Why, don’t you know? ” 

“ Not 1. I am but passing through on my way 
to London.” 

“Oh! Well, just a mile down the hill and 
straight ahead there’s a very good cycle shop. 
You’ve an awful long way to go to get to London. 
When will you reach there ? ” 

“ Why, how far is it? ” I asked, startled. 

“ Ninety miles, father tells me. He goes there 
by motor in a day.” 

I hated to leave her so I went a trifle up the 
winding lane where she pointed out a large, sub- 
stantial house, set in a nest of verdure, which she 
said was her abode. I promised to write to her 
as soon as I was settled and she, placing her little 
hand in mine, looked with such a look at me that 
my heart leaped for joy. 

Then she dropped her violet eyes and blushed, 
while she said, so softly that I had to bend to 
hear, “ Prince Arthur, is there any way in which I 
can repay you? ” 

I drew her face to mine. 

“ One for remembrance,” I whispered, and 
kissed her once again upon the lips. 


92 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

Instantly she fled from me; but just before the 
bend in the road had nearly swallowed her up she 
waved her little hand to me and was gone ! 


CHAPTER III 


THE END OF MY BICYCLE 

Down the lane and up the hill I went in a turmoil 
of emotion. The sweet contentment in my heart 
warred with savage resentment at my lot. She 
was a little lady, with the world at her feet, and 
I a wandering pot boy, at the mercy of the world’s 
kicks and cuffs. However, I tried to treat my ad- 
venture lightly, and when presently I espied my 
truant chain half trampled in the dust, I picked it 
up and went off down the hill trundling my bat- 
tered bicycle. 

Below I found a little village nestling in the 
lovely valley, and in its quiet street under shadow 
of the quaint old church was a bicycle repair shop. 
I made straight for it and hammered on the door. 
My second summons brought out a knowing look- 
ing man with a cigarette in his mouth. 

“ ’Elio! ” he cried. “ Who’s this tired kid? ” 
“ I’ve had a fall,” I answered, mildly, “ and 
damaged my machine.” 

‘‘ Damidged it? Damidged it d’yer sye? Yer 
don’t mean to sye yer call that damidged, do yer? ” 
“ Well,” said I, “ what do you call it? ” 

“ Spiffed, my boy, absolootely spiffed. Wot 

93 


94 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

yer bin up to? Playin’ steeplechasin’ or robbin’ 
the ark? ” 

“ I fell down the hill with it,” I answered, some- 
what nettled at his manner, “ and I want you to 
repair it for me, my good man.” 

“Wot?” he almost shrieked. “Repair that 
thing? Tike it awye ! ” 

“ But it only wants the chain mended,” I pro- 
tested in alarm. 

“ Tike it to the British Mooseeum where yer 
pinched it from an’ tell ’em you’ll never pinch their 
ole iron again.” 

He looked me over, curiously. 

“Where did yer dig it up from? Did ole 
Methooselum leave it to yer? ” 

“ No,” I replied, stiffly. “ I bought it less than 
a month ago.” 

He appeared deeply shocked. 

“ Bought it, did yer sye? Strike me pink! 
Yer didn’t sye yer bought it 1 ” 

I grew hot at his insolence. 

“ Yes, I did,” I retorted. “ What’s that got 
to do with you? ” 

“ ’Ow much did yer give for it, sir?” he de- 
manded. 

“Three pounds ten,” I answered. “Why? 
Isn’t it a good bicycle? ” 

He leant his back beside the jamb and mopped 
his brow. 


THE END OF MY BICYCLE 


95 

“ ’Arry,” he called into the shop. “ I’m goin’ 
ter faint.” 

In response came another man, short and spare, 
with greasy overalls and capable looking hands. 

“ Hullo, Charlie ! ” he said. “ What’s the row 
about? ” 

Charlie pointed me out to his partner with his 
thumb. 

“ I want my bicycle repaired,” I told Harry. 

He looked at my machine with arms akimbo the 
while he shook his head. 

“ Past it, my boy,” he said, “ absolutely past it. 
Pay you better to buy a new one.” 

At this point Charlie chipped in again. 

“ Strike me bloomin’ pink, ’e give free an’ a ’arf 
quid for it ! ” 

“You don’t mean to say that?” Harry in- 
quired, in quick alarm. 

“ Yes,” I answered with failing heart. 
“Why?” 

“ My boy,” he retorted, solemnly, “ you’ve 
been done. That machine’s at least seven years 
old and not fit for any one to ride.” 

“ An’ ’e come down the Terrace ’ill on it, 
’Arry! You’d better see a doctor, young man. 
You’re goin’ potty, barmy on the crumpet.” 

I was getting really alarmed now for ’Arry’s 
judgment carried conviction with it, so I ignored 
the other while I addressed my remarks to him. 


96 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ But I must get it repaired,” I said, “ I’ve got 
to get to London on it.” 

“ You mustn’t go another mile on it, my boy,” 
he declared. “ It’s suicide to ride it. Why how 
far have you come on it? ” 

I told him. 

“My sainted aunt!” he answered, amazed. 
“ You are a lucky chap.” 

“ If you’re so canned on chuckin’ yer money 
awye,” Charlie chipped in again, “ I’ll patch the 
bloomin’ thing up for yer for a quid, so as it won’t 
break yer silly neck for yer wivout givin’ yer fair 
warnin’ ! ” 

“ What’ll you do for half a quid? ” I asked, a 
gleam of hope arising within my bosom. 

“ Tike it rarnd to the back an’ burn it, an’ sive 
yer fooneral expenses for yer.” 

“ Very well,” I said, “ give me a pound’s 
worth.” 

“ Righto I But show us yer money fust.” 

Nettled at this implication I dived my hand into 
my pocket and held out contemptuously for him to 
see — twopence halfpenny in bronze and a six- 
pence ! Dumfounded and speechless with hor- 
ror, for I had yet ninety miles to travel, I looked 
at him with beseeching eyes. 

“I — I’m afraid I’ve lost it,” I stammered. 
“ It must have come out of my pocket when I shot 
over the hedge.” 


THE END OF MY BICYCLE 


97 


Shot over the rats,” he answered, incredu- 
lously. “ I s’pose yer goin’ ter arst me wot I’ll 
give yer fer the scrap ’eap next.” 

“What will you give me for it?” I asked, 
grasping at a straw. 

“ I’ll give yer a thick ear if yer don’t ’op lively,” 
he replied, with sudden ferocity. 

“ But I’ve got some more money in London,” I 
protested. 

“ Well ’op off an’ get it afore some one else 
pinches it — go on,” he answered, and he looked 
so menacing that, thinking discretion the better 
part of valour, I dragged my heap of ruins sadly 
off and went back from whence I’d come. 

Up the hill I trudged again as quickly as I could, 
bent on saving my scattered wealth, and if Fred 
Powell, the grocer’s boy, survived half the ills I 
wished him at that hour, he is by now a maimed 
and mangled mockery of a man, worthy of the pity 
of a heart of stone. 

Presently nearing the spot where I had fallen 
I beheld a strange procession coming down the 
hill towards me. A diminutive cart, resembling 
the wagon of a pioneer settler of the wild West, 
was being drawn by a donkey that was led by a 
swarthy man with rings in his ears, and under- 
neath the wagon’s hood on a heterogeneous collec- 
tion of odds and ends sat a brown skinned child of 
not more than three, contentedly smoking a cigar- 


98 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

ette. Dumb with amazement I stared at him. A 
gaudy caravan followed in his wake, another fol- 
lowed close behind and yet again a third, each 
escorted by youths and men who for complexion 
and habiliments were blood brothers of the first, 
the while the whole emitted an effluvia nauseating 
and intense. 

All of a sudden I saw a youth run out in haste 
to the spot where I had fallen and begin to scram- 
ble about with his hands amid the grass. Was he 
gathering together my scattered gold and silver? 
I was on him in a bound. I caught him by the 
collar before he had time to rise and over in the 
dust we rolled with him beneath. I just had time 
to note his glare of mingled anger and surprise 
when pressing his heavy boot against my stomach 
he shot me clear. 

I was up on my feet in an instant. I glared 
at him, and ground my teeth with pent up fury, 
and seeing in him the embodiment of all my 
evil luck I sailed into him blind with rage and 
fear. 

“ That’s my money,” I screamed, aiming at his 
ear. 

“ Garn I I found it,” he answered, parrying. 

“ I dropped it here,” I retorted, as I warded a 
terrific punch at his stomach. 

“ You’re a liar! ” he bellowed, emphasising the 
declaration with a punch upon my nose. 


THE END OF MY BICYCLE 


99 

‘‘Thief!” I roared as the blood streamed 
forth. 

Twice he had me in the dust and once I caught 
him full and square upon the eye so that he spun 
round like a well whipped top and landed on his 
face. I waited his uprising, when on to him 
again I flew like a wild cat. He came at me with 
arms extended and I hit him in the ribs, and when 
he came at me again, I landed full on his chest. 

Bleeding, puffed and swollen, and gasping for 
breath, he realised that he was like to lose, so rush- 
ing at me like a bull he lifted up his foot and aimed 
a vicious kick below my belt, but before it reached 
its mark I caught his foot deftly in my hand and 
brought him to the ground. Then behold a storm 
arose around me. I was pushed and punched and 
kicked and struck with sticks so that I was near 
to lose my senses, and I verily believe I had been 
slain had not a woman who had been watching 
from the back of a van come to my rescue. 

“ Leave him alone I ” she shouted. “ Leave 
him alone 1 ’E is de ver’ boy I tell you about. 
Do you want de Goddam p’lice upon our track? 
Hey?” 

And lying there half stunned while my assail- 
ants helped their wounded champion into the van 
and started down the hill again, I was amazed in 
my heart, for the voice was the voice of a gipsy 
crone but the speech was the speech of Beppo ! 


CHAPTER lY 


I PURSUE MY JOURNEY 

I LAY where I was for a long time, hearing 
faintly, seeing dimly, thinking not at all, conscious 
only of a dull aching in my limbs, in my head, in 
all my bones and flesh. Then a startling thought 
occurred to me. Supposing she who lived so close 
should come this way and see me thus? Perish 
the thought! Never on my life should Princess 
Ida venture here and find her fairy prince so lowly 
laid, except in her sweet service. So springing up 
with such vigour as to set all my bones aj ingle 
and make my battered flesh cry out in protest I 
steadied myself against the hedge, and opening my 
swollen eyelids as widely as I might, looked, cau- 
tiously, up and down the road. 

Nothing was in sight in all that stretch of hill 
but my poor, battered bicycle. There she lay 
where I had thrown her, and by now she was most 
surely done for, for those same gipsy caravans had 
passed their wheels right over her. Staggering 
towards her I searched my storage place behind 
the saddle. My mackintosh was gone, but my 

lOO 


lOI 


I PURSUE MY JOURNEY 

little sketching outfit, bent and twisted as it was, I 
still could save; so I unstrapped it with much 
thankfulness. 

My poor old battered machine I lifted labor- 
iously and pitched out of sight behind the hedge. 
Having thus rid me of a thing that had brought 
much of sorrow and little of joy into these furious 
fleeting days I scrambled through after it, and 
searching out the low thorn that had caught my 
little lady in her fall, crept like a sickly dog be- 
neath its grateful shade. 

And so it came to pass that presently I fell into 
a deep and dreamless sleep, and when in God’s 
good time I awoke again it was to see the stars 
twinkling down on me, and every fibre of my 
growing frame calling aloud for food. Never 
had I been so famished and thirsty as now, for not 
a bite or drop had passed my lips since that never 
to be forgotten breakfast of the morning, the very 
thought of which made my mouth water. It was 
now midnight or early morning of the next day, or 
even the day after that for aught I knew, and with 
my meagre treasury and ninety miles to walk 
economy blazoned forth her virtues with clarion 
call. But even were I possessed of all the fabled 
wealth of Eldorado, where was I to find an inn at 
such a time as this? 

Still fearful that were I to spend the night here 
my Princess might come this way and see me in the 


102 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

morning, I made up my mind on the instant to put 
as many miles as might be between us ere yet the 
sun was up, so feeling much refreshed and infi- 
nitely less stiff and sore, I scrambled through the 
hedge again and out into the road. I was barely 
through when the headlights of a motor coming 
up the hill flashed full upon the grass beneath my 
hands, and seeing therein a shining silver disc my 
fingers grasped it, thankfully, and looking at its 
face I saw that it was a half a crown ! A half a 
crown and ninety miles to London! I gazed 
about me, frightened and alarmed. But it was 
only for a moment that terror swept over me for 
was I not a country boy, sturdy at heart, and had 
not my life fitted me to cope with just such a situa- 
tion? With a resolute mien I stepped out on the 
road to London. 

And it was not so hard a jaunt after all. A 
farmer going to market took me ten miles on my 
way, a doctor in an auto carried me twenty-five, 
and a sweet-faced old lady at whose house I 
stopped for a night emptied out a hidden hoard in 
a teapot to buy me a railway ticket. She packed 
me a lunch and mended my stockings, and when 
I started down the road, ran after me and kissed 
me because I resembled a little brother who had 
been lost at sea. The ninety miles to London be- 
came sixty, became forty, thirty, twenty, until, 
finally, I stood weary and footsore, but resolute 


I PURSUE MY JOURNEY 103 

as Dick Whittington, on a bridge that spanned the 
Thames and gazed on a wonderful vision. 

It was London, at last, London of the mighty 
streets, of the court and courtiers, of authors, 
singers, painters, the wonder of England and the 
World! 

Before me there gleamed a wondrous scene. 
A great mauve dome belonging to some fairy pal- 
ace rose on dazzling pillars as of alabaster, and 
on its crest, uplifted on transparent threads that 
caught a salmon lustre from the sun, a great gold 
ball and cross reared up against a sky blue as the 
forget-me-nots in a country garden. 

I stood enraptured, with head held high, while 
a kindly policeman in shiny cape smiled at my ec- 
stasy. 

“ Is that Saint Paul’s Cathedral? ” I gasped. 

“ Saint Paul’s, my son, it is,” he answered. 
“ Where do you want to go ? ” 

“ I want to get to Mall Road,” I replied, my 
mind still adrift. 

“ Mall Road, Mall Road,” he mused. “ I 
never heard of it.” 

“ Never heard of it? ” I cried. “ Why this is 
London, isn’t it? ” 

“ Ah 1 this is London right enough, sonny. 
You don’t mean Mare Street, do you? ” 

“ No, sir,” I answered. “ Mall Road.” 

‘‘ Never ’eard o’ Mall Road. There’s Mare 


104 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

Street, ’Ackney, and there’s Pawl Mawl, and — 
ah — there’s the Mall, but there ain’t no ’ouses in 
the Mall. Whereabouts does it lie? ” 

“ I don’t know, sir, but it’s somewhere near the 
West Strand Post Office.” 

“ Ah — then I should go there, sonny,” he said. 

So thanking him again I went upon my way. 

This London I was in oppressed me overmuch, 
for whereas I had pictured to myself a busy centre 
not unlike our own market town some seven miles 
from the Goat and Compasses, I found myself 
within a mighty forest where houses grew instead 
of trees, and where there were more people at 
once in one street than were to be found in a week 
of market days at home. 

However would I be able to find Alec in all this 
multitude, even though I had his address? I 
sighed for sheer incompetence, the while, foot- 
sore, hungry and weary, I searched each passing 
face and form until my eyes were strained and my 
head adaze at this unwonted effort. 

Then the unexpected happened, for while cross- 
ing a road that sprang into the Strand just past 
the Adelphi Theatre, I heard a wild scuffle and a 
shout and was caught up by strong and bony hands, 
and patted and caressed and crooned over in such 
an absurd and ridiculous manner, that I was very 
much ashamed to be thus seen. A new Alec 
stood before me. His shining hat was gone and 


I PURSUE MY JOURNEY 


105 


on its place reposed a broad brimmed felt, while 
the long brown ulster had given place to a black 
coat, bedecked as to collar and to cuffs with ancient 
fur where the moth had long since tired of holding 
revelry. 

But it was the same Alec, for when the first ex- 
uberance of his delight was over, he rushed me 
into an eating house and set oysters and stout be- 
fore me. 

I had tasted stout before, “ drawn from the 
wood,” as Father used to say, but never before 
had I tasted Guinness’s, because that it was a drink 
fit only for gentlefolk, so having put my lips deep 
down so that the soft and umber foam caressed 
my nose, I took a long and grateful draught and 
felt that I was boril again. 

And while I revelled in my banquet I watched 
with ever roving eyes the scene around me, the 
busy hum of conversation blended with the inter- 
mittent strumming of a piano somewhere over- 
head that rattled out a thin and tuneless dance, and 
the shrieks and crescendo of a chorus down the 
street, and I noticed that all the talk was of the 
stage and all these people bore the stamp of an 
unconquerable rebellion against all ordered things, 
and each one bore himself with as much conde- 
scension towards his fellows as if he alone were 
Sol himself and these others but lesser stars. One 
in particular made some inquiries about me. 


io6 JIM ™ UNCLASSIFIED 

“Who’s the juvenile? What’s his line?” he 
demanded. “Musical?” 

“ No,” answered Alec, “ out upon thee. Bob ! 
I would he had a fancy for the profession.” 

“ He ought to make a good heavy when he 
grows up,” commented Bob. “ He’s got imagina- 
tion.” 

“ Aha ! there’s many a true word,” replied Alec, 
“ spoken in haste. He’ll make a painter unsur- 
passed, will my little prince.” 

“ Oh! is that his name? ” 

“ No,” said Alec, “ his name is — ” 

“Yes,” I broke in, hurriedly, “Arthur Prince 
is my name, though Alec has a fancy for turning 
it round.” 

“ And calling you Prince Arthur,” replied the 
actor. “ How like the dear old boy! ” 

Whereat Alec looked at me with eyes exceed- 
ing wide and flat denial on his lips, so that I nudged 
him harshly in the ribs and made him spill his 
whiskey. 


CHAPTER V 


THE HOME OF ART 

We went to Alec’s home by way of a Hammer- 
smith bus; a new experience for me as well as a 
delightful one, to sit aperch and have the great 
Alec point out the objects of interest on the road. 
Nelson’s Monument we saw and the houses of Par- 
liament and the National Gallery, and later the 
Knightsbridge Barracks where soldiers with red 
plumes and naked swords drilled just within the 
great doors. Finally getting down from the bus 
we entered Mall Road, which runs to the river. 
There was a sad and sorrowful air of ‘‘ has been ” 
about this street, and the houses called to mind 
pictures of ancient queens who had lived too long. 
The loosely hanging gate of one hundred and three 
was open and the steps needed sweeping. 

Alec rattled his key in the lock of the front door 
and flinging it open, bade me enter with old time 
grace and courtesy. Immediately a thin voice, 
somewhat querulous and not a little cultured, 
floated up from the lower regions. 

“ Is that you, Alexander? ” 

“ Yes, my sweetest poppet.” 

“ Oh! Alexander, where have you been? ” 

107 


io8 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

Before he could answer, a door to my right 
opened and a young man in pyjamas blinked out at 
us. 

“Where’s my ballyboots? D’ye ’ear, Alec? 
Where the ’ell’s my ballyboots ? ” 

My blood boiled at this, so looking him up and 
down most angrily I saw his boots were on his 
feet. 

“You silly ass!” I retorted, taking up the 
cudgels for my friend, “ you’ve got them on.” 

“ Who the dickens are you,” he demanded, “ to 
call a gennleman a silly ass? I woan be called 
silly ass by you. D’ye ’ear? How the devil can 
I have ’em on when I’ve only just gorrup ? Eh ? ” 

“ Well, what are those then? ” I replied point- 
ing to his feet. 

He looked at them again steadily for a while, 
hiccoughing softly to himself. Then taking them 
off very quickly and skilfully he flung them at my 
head. 

“ You go an’ clean ’em, boy,” he shouted. 
“ That’s all you’re fit for. Go an’ clean my boots, 
d’ye ’ear, ye silly ole Alec-silly-sander ? ” 

Whereupon I picked them up and was about to 
cast them back at him when Alec took them firmly 
from me, and promised the young man that his 
wishes would be attended to. The latter retired, 
hiccoughing and slamming his door. 

“Who’s he?” I asked. 


THE HOME OF ART 


109 


“You mustn’t take any notice of him,” 
answered Alec in a low voice, “ he’s our best 
lodger, a bit of a trial, Jim, but he keeps the box 
office open.” 

So along the barren passage and down the dark 
bare stairs we went, he first to guide my steps, I 
following, and as we went a woman’s voice came 
out of the front room. 

“Oh, ^/exander! it’s long past lunch time. 
Where have you been and what Is the matter with 
Mister Bardilow? ” 

“ Drunk again, my dear,” he answered. 

Then bidding me to stay beside the door he en- 
tered the room, and I saw that on the sofa by the 
window a woman, somewhat short and round and 
faded, with straw coloured hair, reclined with a 
fashion paper In her hands. A pink dressing 
gown was fastened at her waist with a bright blue 
sash while dingy white satin shoes adorned her 
feet and barely hid the holes in one magenta 
stocking. 

An open piano stood against the wall, on which 
some tattered music sagged over to the keyboard; 
sheets of music rested on the stool and piles of 
music littered the top of the instrument, while 
music lay unheeded and uncared for on the floor. 

A bald headed canary In the window essayed to 
burst his aged throat with song, heedless of the 
dirty draggled curtains between which he had his 


no 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

home; while photograph on photograph, some 
unframed and others decked with plush or tarn- 
ished silver, littered the mantelpiece, the side- 
board, the piano top and walls. 

Alec bent above his wife and, lifting off his hat, 
gallantly kissed her on the brow. 

“ My darling,” he said, nervously, “ the jewel 
has dropped from out the clouds and fallen in my 
lap.” 

She looked sternly at him a moment. 

“ Alexander, you’ve been drinking again,” she 
said. 

“ My sweetest poppet! ” 

“ Then what on earth have you got into your 
head now? ” 

“ At the corner of Bedford Street this very day 
he fell upon my heart like this,” and he thumped 
his old and shrivelled chest in violent illustration. 

Who did? What are you talking about, and 
where is the jewel? ” 

As if this were the cue he was waiting for, as 
if indeed this were the very psychological moment, 
he swung around and stretched out his hand. 

“ My prince, come in and be presented,” he 
cried, tragically. 

Awkwardly I shuffled through the doorway and 
into that august presence, and at sight of me the 
lady scrambled into a sitting posture, and fussed 
about with her dressing gown, her odds and ends 


THE HOME OF ART 


III 


of lace and her hair, the while she hastily en- 
deavoured to remove her gloves. 

Then Alec, the master of ceremonies, per- 
formed the ancient rite of introduction. 

“ Prince Arthur, come and be presented to my 
well beloved wife and partner of my joys and sor- 
rows, Mrs. Alexander Hannibal Pond, known to 
the music loving confreres of your father’s gener- 
ation as Miss Muriel Mucilage. My dear. Prince 
Arthur.” 

I bowed. 

She held out a haughty hand which I shook with 
much confusion. 

Then looking me over approvingly she en- 
quired : 

“ Do you hope to grace the boards? ” 

“ Do you mean the stage? ” 

She bowed assent. 

“ Oh, no,” I answered. “ I don’t think I should 
like it.” 

“ He ? ” said Alec ; “ out upon thee, Rosamond ! 
No mere painted frippery for him ! He is a bud- 
ding artist of such rare genius that never has there 
shone his like.” 

What a pity I ” she answered, looking tired 
and disappointed. “ I hoped you had a wish to do 
something useful. It always makes me sad to see 
a clever youth, one who is cursed with love of 
music, painting, drama, or any of the arts; for I 


1 12 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

know, alas too well, how bitter is the fate in store 
for him, and I know, also, that however much a 
person of experience may try to dissuade him from 
it, that you are only dubbed a fool for your pains.” 

“ But what can you do with one who is born 
with the spark within him? ” asked Alec, almost 
defiantly. 

“ Strangle him at birth, Alexander, as I would 
have done you, had / been your mother,” she re- 
plied. 

He changed the subject. 

“ Our noble prince has come to live with us a 
while.” 

“ Alexander ! ” 

“ Oh ! Mrs. Pond,” I broke in, hurriedly, 
“ when Alec wrote to me some months ago offer- 
ing me a home, I wrote him I would come and sent 
him some money to pay for my keep.” 

“ Then you are the boy from Ravenhurst,” she 
said, with an air of relief. 

“ Yes.” 

“ But his name was not Prince, it was Sturgess.” 

“ Mrs. Pond, when Mother died that way, my 
father died, too, for me, and I’d rather be called 
Prince, if you please.” 

Whereat she bade me come closer, and drawing 
my face down to hers she kissed me soundly so 
that I had to bite my lips for fear that I should 
cry. 


THE HOME OF ART 


113 

“ My money will keep me,” I said, sobbing, 
“ until I can earn some more.” 

“ Earn some? ” she queried. 

“ I painted a picture and sold it on the road,” I 
asserted. 

“You did?” she exclaimed. “Oh, what a 
pity. Oh, what a dreadful calamity.” 

“Why?” 

“ Because it only encourages you and leads you 
on.” 

I smiled, and soon I was telling her the story 
of my travels, so that time passed unheeded, and 
a bumping and bustling overhead went by un- 
noticed, until a violent and incessant tinkling of a 
cracked bell cut short my reminiscences. 

“ What on earth is the matter with Mr. Bardi- 
low,” asked Mrs. Pond, querulously. “ Alexan- 
der, do go and see.” 

“ Angels and ministers of grace defend us ! ” 
cried Alec. “ It’s his boots. I forgot all about 
’em.” 

As Alec took his way to the kitchen I followed 
him and seeing him prepare to brush the boots I 
tried to snatch the brushes from him and do it in 
his stead, but he protesting, we compromised, he 
blacking one the while I made the other shine. 

Afterwards Alec took me out the back door and 
up the three stone steps into the tiny garden, and 
showed me his fowls and his rabbits, while his 


1 14 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

dogs, a terrier, a whippet, an airedale and a woolly 
sheep dog, gambolled round him and licked his 
hands, while they sniffed my legs in deep suspicion. 
And he told me all about Mr. Bardllow, who was 
a medical student of great promise and wealth, but 
unfortunately had an overfondness for alcohol. 

He told me, also, that he had four other 
lodgers, an army captain who lived nobody knew 
how, a salesman in a furniture shop, whom I would 
see soon, and a young lady, an embryo authoress 
and a red hot socialist, who fraternized with exiled 
Russian nobles who had left their native land for 
that land’s good. 

Then tea was announced, after which he hurried 
off to town to take his part in his melodrama, and 
I went early to my little room overlooking the 
street, being eager to revel, in the luxury of pil- 
lows and sheets. 


CHAPTER VI 


I SEEK A LIVELIHOOD 

I LAY sleeping the next day well into the after- 
noon, when having breakfasted I set about the 
pleasant task of writing to my little lady so that 
she might know that at last I was In London. 
Sheets and sheets I filled, and still more sheets, 
with details of what I had endured, until there was 
such a goodly pile that neither Mrs. Pond nor I 
was possessed of an envelope large enough to hold 
them, so out I needs must go to purchase one. 

Coming back I heard a cheery voice hailing me. 

“ Hello, young man, I hear you’re staying with 
us.” 

I turned and it was Mister Bardllow, very 
spruce and clean and nicely brushed. In a morning 
coat and glossy hat, and, looking at his boots I saw 
that they were faultless. 

“ Yes,” I said, “ IVe come to London to try my 
luck.” 

“ I am afraid I was rude to you yesterday,” he 
continued. , 

“Yes,” I said, “you were.” 

“ Well, you needn’t be cross about it,” he re- 
torted. 

“ I’m not cross,” I replied. “ You asked me if 


1 1 6 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

you were rude and I said you were because you 
were. You were drunk.” 

“ Was I very drunk? ” he demanded. 

“ Not very. I’ve seen men worse.” 

“ Good Lord 1 You seem to be an authority — 
but you ought to have seen me in the morning — 
before I went to bed, for I was sober when I saw 
you. 

“ Did my boots hit you when I threw them at 
you? ” he asked a moment later. 

“ No,” I replied. “ How are they? ” 

“ Dazzling, lustrous, look at ’em! ” He stood 
still that I might admire their sheen. “ Did Alec 
clean ’em? ” 

“ He put the stuff on, but I polished them.” 

“ Did you now? Well that’s very friendly of 
you. Come into my room and have a chat some- 
time when I’m better tempered than I was yester- 
day. I think you and I will like each other.” 

So we parted, he to his room, I up-stairs to 
mine. 

And sitting at my little table I essayed to ad- 
dress my envelope but, alas, for the absent-mind- 
edness of the artistic temperament! I had been 
so full of my adventure, so careless of where I 
went that I had clean forgotten to ask for her ad- 
dress ! 

The next few days I busied myself with drawing 
little pictures of interesting spots within Hammer- 


I SEEK A LIVELIHOOD 


117 

smith. I did the hump-backed wooden bridge 
that crossed the creek down by “ The Doves,” I 
did “ The Doves ” itself, I painted the suspension 
bridge and the poplars on the Mall, the boat 
builder’s yards, Chiswick Church and Hogarth’s 
tomb, and took them round many a weary day in 
fruitless efforts to find a purchaser. Finding busi- 
ness hopelessly impossible within the suburb I put 
my drawings under my arm and sallied forth upon 
a bus to try my luck in the streets of London 
town. 

At every shop I saw with pictures in the window 
I would stop and gaze, trying to get a glimpse of 
the ogre whose abode it was. Then with much 
of hesitation would I stand making up my mind to 
enter, and sometimes I stayed so long that my 
courage melted and without venturing inside I 
would fly precipitately. But when it happened 
that I could screw up sufficient pluck I would 
stumble blindly in with quaking knees and violent 
thumping of heart and stand speechless upon the 
mat, wishing I was out of it. 

And so it came to pass that presently there was 
not a shop within the Strand or Piccadilly, Jermyn 
Street, Pall Mall, the Haymarket or thereabouts, 
that I had not at one time or the other forced my- 
self to enter, and silently, or with halting tongue, 
displayed my precious wares. And still my stock 
grew ever larger while my hope grew ever smaller. 


ii8 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

The weeks fled by, the months went after them, 
Christmas had come and gone and I hadn’t sold a 
single sketch nor earned a copper coin, and my 
seven pounds ten had at last worked itself out and 
Mrs. Pond, though kindness itself, began, I knew, 
to feel me as a burden. Not that she ever said 
anything but there was something in her look, in 
her tones, in her manner, in the very air about her, 
which called to me and said that now at last I must 
give up my chimera and turn my hand to “ some- 
thing useful.” Alec’s theatrical position had 
ceased long since with the close of the Autumn sea- 
son, so that Alec and his wife were neither of them 
in a sweet temper. 

At last with a heavy heart I tried to get employ- 
ment as a pot boy, but none would have me be- 
cause I was too small and inexperienced, neither 
would they take me in the bar because I was not 
old enough. 

Then one day going down Pall Mall, opposite 
Marlborough House, I saw a plate within a recess 
which said that Mister Martin Poldani lived 
therein, and that he was a dealer in works of art 
and vertu. Wondering that I had not seen it 
there before, I entered. There was a passage 
that led up some stairs, and opening the door at 
the top I found myself within a gallery, the like 
of which I had not seen before except at Raven- 
hurst. 


I SEEK A LIVELIHOOD 


119 

At a small side table an old, old man whose 
snow-white hair fell down beyond his shoulders, 
stood rubbing at a canvas with a rag. Seeing me 
he ceased his labours and looked at me with keen 
but kindly eyes. 

“Well,” he said. 

“Will you buy these?” I asked him, holding 
out my parcel. 

“ Yes, if they are any good,” he answered. 
“ But I’ll look at them only on condition that if I 
like them and offer you a price you must accept it. 
I’m not going to have you show them to me and 
then when I have valued them for you, go and say 
to other dealers : ‘ Oh, Mister Poldani says they 

are worth so and so.’ Is that clear ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Then show them to me.” 

So undoing my parcel I laid my work before 
him. 

He looked at them very closely, then taking out 
a glass looked closer still, after which he handled 
them as if studying the paper they were done on, 
then holding them above his head looked through 
them to the light. 

“ No value,” he said, finally, handing them back 
to me. 

“None at all?” I queried, with heart gone 
down to zero. 

He shook his head. 


120 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ I thought at first they had,’’ he said. “ They 
looked to me like Lorrilow’s early ones, but they’re 
too new and the paper’s modern, so they are only 
copies and worthless. There would be merit in 
them, if original, as art, but from the collector’s 
standpoint they’re not worth tuppence.” 

“ But they are original,” I protested. 

“ Don’t tell me,” he snapped. 

“ But they are,” I persisted, grasping at a 
straw. 

“ They are worthless copies of Sir James Lorri- 
low’s early work. Don’t you dare to contradict 
me ! ” 

“ They can’t be, because I did them myself,” I 
said in a choking voice. 

He looked at me very keenly as if he were trying 
to pierce my very soul, and I answered his look 
with one as steady as his own. Then after a bit 
he smiled. 

“ I am very old, nearly ninety, and have seen a 
lot of rogues and a few honest men, so can trust 
my eyes quite well, and you look truthful.” 

“ I did do them, sir,” I said, not knowing what 
else to say. 

He shook his head. 

“ If you had said you swear that what you say is 
true, or had appealed to God or your honour, I 
should have known you were lying, but you 
didn’t. Here give them to me.” 


I SEEK A LIVELIHOOD 


I2I 


Again taking my drawings he looked at them 
with a new Interest. 

“ Wonderful work for a boy,” he said. 
“ What do you do for a living? ” 

“ Nothing, sir, only these.” 

“ Do you sell them? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Ah ! the path an artist treads Is very stony and 
beset with many pitfalls, with fearful disappoint- 
ment at the end for most. Would you like to 
learn picture restoring? ” 

“ Very much, sir.” 

“ Well, come and see me on Monday; but I’d 
like to have two of these. If I may.” 

“ Certainly, sir,” I answered. “ Take which 
of them you please.” 

And selecting those he liked he gave me two 
bright sovereigns, after which I went home on 
wings to tell Alec that the tide had turned, at last. 


CHAPTER VII 


FORTUNE’S TRICKS 

I WAS home in time for tea, where my joyful news 
was received with acclamation. Alec was trans- 
ported to flights of fervid prophecy, Mrs. Pond 
was quietly delighted and full of congratulations. 
Miss Purvis, the embryo authoress, was moved to 
remark that Martin Poldani was the greatest liv- 
ing authority on art, the furniture salesman. Mis- 
ter ’Grace ’Illingdon by name, declared that he 
“ would ’ave one with me on the strength of that,” 
and the bald headed canary came out of his cage 
and with wings outspread squawked defiance to 
constituted authority as he helped himself to butter 
from the dish. 

I kept five shillings to get my boots mended and 
reinforce my sadly battered wardrobe and handed 
the balance over to Mrs. Pond, so that I might in 
some manner liquidate my debt to her. 

Monday found me at ten o’clock walking up 
and down the pavement in Pall Mall, watching the 
sentries changing guard at Marlborough House 
while I awaited the arrival of my benefactor, and 
soon a cab drew up, and out he came, very small 
and bent, with kindly eyes a-twinkle, and greeting 
122 


FORTUNE’S TRICKS 


123 

me, he led me up the stairs to his wonderful gal- 
lery. 

Here he patted me on the back and told me a 
most amusing tale all in French, not a word of 
which I understood, and having finished it, he 
chuckled mightily, and seeing him amused and 
wishing to please him, I, too, laughed, heartily. 

“ I’ve been thinking a lot about you,” he said. 
“ I want you to begin work here next Monday 
morning, and I’ll give you fifteen shillings a week 
until you are able to earn more. You don’t mind 
what you do? ” 

“ No, sir,” I answered promptly. “ As long 
as it’s honest.” 

“ Good boy, good boy, I was afraid you would 
say. Art.” 

Then he went to his desk and taking out four 
letters handed them to me. 

“ Now this is just to try your willingness. 
Take these round to the people they are addressed 
to, deliver them, and await an answer.” 

The first was addressed to a tailor in Saville 
Row, so going there, I delivered the note and 
awaited the reply. 

After some conversation in low tones two men 
came out and measured me for a suit. 

“ What about the answer to my letter,” I de- 
manded, greatly puzzled. 

“ Tell Mister Poldani they will be delivered by 


124 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

Friday,” he said. “ Will you kindly leave your 
address? ” 

In much wonder at this strange proceeding I 
gave him the address and departed with my other 
letters. 

The next one took me to a hosier’s in Piccadilly 
where I was asked my size in collars, shirts, hose, 
underwear and gloves, and being again informed 
that this was the answer to my note I told them 
where I lived, and they respectfully intimated that 
the things would be sent on that very day. 

By that time I was aflame with gratitude and 
amazement and doubt as to the reality of it all, so 
I hurried down St. James Street and was soon 
pouring out a voluble tale of my incredible ad- 
ventures into the ears of the dealer in art and 
vertu. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” he said, somewhat testily, 
cutting me short. “ I can’t have you about the 
place like that! ” and he pointed deprecatingly at 
my attire. 

I stood speechless not knowing what to say. 

After pottering about a bit and seeing me still 
standing there, he looked at me sharply. 

“Well?” 

“ What else can I do, sir? ” I asked. 

“ Go away, go away ! There’s a good boy. 
And come back again on Monday morning. I’m 
busy.” 


FORTUNE’S TRICKS 


125 

So thanking him very humbly I left him, won- 
dering. 

All that week I went about the house in a daze, 
anticipating I know not what of joy and honour 
and success. Alec told me, not once but a hundred 
times, that “ There is a tide in the affairs of men 
which taken at the flood leads on to fortune.” 
While his wife remarked that there was “ many a 
slip ’twixt the cup and the lip.” But when the 
clothes began to arrive Mrs. Pond caught the in- 
fection and agreed with her spouse that my luck 
had turned at last. 

And what a collection it was ! There were two 
suits, twelve shirts, twelve collars, twelve handker- 
chiefs, two neckties, six pairs of socks, two pairs 
each of boots and gloves, a bowler hat and a tweed 
cap, and all of superb quality and fit. 

The Saturday night before I was to commence 
my duties, Mrs. Pond, Alec and I went to see 
“ The Silver King ” at Mister Bardilow’s invita- 
tion, to inaugurate the great event, and after that 
we had a crab supper with a bottle of Pommery to 
drink to my success. 

Sunday I walked to Richmond Park in all the 
glory of my tweeds, and going to bed early dreamt 
of glories unimaginable. 

And now behold me in my black with my bowler 
hat upon my head, and in my. gloved hand a shill- 
ing cherry wood stick which I thought was neces- 


1 26 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

sary to complete the whole ensemble, standing op- 
posite Marlborough House at ten o’clock Monday 
morning, waiting the arrival of my employer. 

Half past ten and he had not come, eleven 
o’clock and no sign of him, twelve, half past twelve 
and one o’clock chimed from a near by steeple as, 
filled with apprehension, I kept my lonely guard. 
Two o’clock and I was getting hungry, three and 
I was feeling faint, four and human endurance 
could stand it no longer, so I turned my back upon 
Pall Mall and hurried home with heavy heart. 

Ten o’clock on Tuesday morning found me 
there again, and at half past ten a strange man 
opened the door with a key. I followed him, my 
heart at rest, at last. 

“ What do you want? ” he demanded. 

“ I want to come in. I’m working here,” I 
answered. 

“ No you’re not,” he replied. 

“ Yes, indeed, I am. Mister Poldani engaged 
me and I ought to have started yesterday,” I per- 
sisted. 

“ Nobody is engaged here because Mister Pol- 
dani is dead,” he announced. 

“ Dead? ” I gasped. 

“ Yes, died Saturday night from heart failure, 
poor old chap. On his ninetieth birthday.” 

Saying which he nodded to me curtly and went 
inside. 


FORTUNE’S TRICKS 


127 


With heavy heart and sad, unseeing eyes I 
turned slowly away. I laughed a little bitterly 
when I recalled how fine I looked in all these 
clothes and how they were but a covering and 
that underneath there stalked nothing but a pauper 
after all ! 

I wasted all that day watching the idlers by the 
Serpentine, and the children swimming their model 
yachts across the raging waters of the Round 
Pond, eating out my heart that fate had been so 
cruel with me. 


CHAPTER VIII 

A DOCTOR SEEKS TO CLASSIFY AN INSECT 

I GRIEVE to say that I was short and snappy with 
my friends. I told them little about my ill luck 
beyond the fact that the poor old chap was dead, 
and wouldn’t listen when they pointed out how 
lucky I was to get such a stock of good clothes for 
nothing; but sulked and hid myself away, and 
found no consolation even in Mrs. Pond’s playing 
which was always very beautiful. So when Mister 
Bardilow called me into his room and told me 
that he’d found a job for me I was ungracious 
enough. 

“ What sort of a job? ” I demanded. 

“ Well, Jim,” he said, somewhat haltingly, “ it’s 
like this. Doctor Redcar, the famous nerve and 
mental specialist, is in want of a smart and respect- 
able boy to show the patients in and keep his in- 
struments clean, and make himself generally use- 
ful.” 

“ Is he healthy? ” I asked. 

“ Healthy! ” he gasped. 

“ Not likely to die? ” I continued. 

‘‘ Why, Jim, what a mobid chap you are I 
Haven’t you got over the old picture dealer yet? 

128 


SEEKS TO CLASSIFY AN INSECT 129 

Doctor Redcar is just over forty, six foot two in 
his socks, weighs sixteen stone and is an Irish- 
man.” 

“ Oh,” I said. “ Where does he live? ” 

“ Off Cavendish Square. Jim, do you feel like 
taking it on? ” 

“ I’m game,” I answered. 

“ Good boy,” he replied, with vigour. “ I said 
you would. I spoke to him about you yesterday 
and he wants me to send you along.” 

“ Thank you very much,” I answered, beginning 
to thaw. “ When shall I go? ” 

“ To-morrow morning at half past eight, and 
you’ll find him an awfully decent chap. He’s a 
sportsman and an art collector and — and lots of 
funny things. Do you know, Jim, he’s got the 
finest private collection of old masters, and things 
like that, of anybody in the world? ” 

“Has he?” I replied. “That might be use- 
ful.” 

“Rather! That’s what I thought, and you 
never know where you’ll land if a man like that 
takes an interest in you.” 

“ Does he know anything about me? ” 

“ Oh, yes, he knows your name is Jim and that 
there’s a mystery about you.” 

“ What did he say when you told him ? ” 

“ He said he loved a mystery and would sooner 
have you than an ordinary chap.” 


130 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

So on the following day, a half hour after 
eight I was waiting in the hall of the cheerful 
house in the street just off Cavendish Square, while 
a neat and pleasant maid took my letter of intro- 
duction to the great and mighty specialist in 
nervous and mental disorders. 

In a moment she was back again, bidding me fol- 
low her. She took me along a passage with sud- 
den turns and bends whose carpet dulled our foot- 
falls so that we moved silently as ghosts, till com- 
ing to a door she knocks thereon and without wait- 
ing for an answer opens and ushers me in. 

I started with surprise to see I was in a small 
gymnasium and on a mat before me stood a moun- 
tain of a man in white shoes and trousers and his 
undervest, who worked his powerful arms first up 
then down, then out, then in, with huge dumb-bells 
grasped in his mighty fists, while he counted in a 
muffled rhythm. 

“Wan, two, tree, foor; wan, two, tree, foor; 
wan, two, tree, foor,” until he thought he’d had 
enough. 

Then he put his dumb-bells down and slipping 
into a white sweater took my letter off the table. 

“ What’s it say inside it? ” he inquired, shortly. 

“ I don’t know, sir.” 

“ Ye dorn’t know? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ But it was orpen? ” 


SEEKS TO CLASSIFY AN INSECT 13 1 

“ Yes, sir. Mr. Bardilow gave it me like that.” 

“ An’ ye mane to tell me ye didn’t read it? ” 

“ No, sir, certainly not. The letter was meant 
for you.” 

“ But ye knew it was about yerself ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, but it wasn’t my letter.” 

He raised his hand to his head at this evidently 
intending to scratch it, but finding no hair on top, 
he brought it down to the close red fringe that 
grew above his ears. 

Then he wrote on a pad of paper, speaking 
aloud as he wrote. 

‘‘ The insect has a sense of honour.” 

Then he threw the letter over to me. 

“ Ye’d better have a look at ut,” he said. 

Thanking him I picked it up and this was the 
message : 

“ This is him. He’s hot stuff. Bardilow, 
M.D.” 

“What’s ye name?” he asked, when I had 
given it back to him. 

“ Jim,” I answered. 

He looked at me quizzically, and wrote once 
more upon his pad. 

“The insect is the James, vulgaris Jim, classi- 
fication unknown. Jim Unclassified. That’s the 
name for you.” 

I smiled my agreement. 


132 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Taake ye coat off, James,” he demanded, of a 
sudden. 

I took it off. 

“ Show me yer hands.” 

I showed them back and front. 

“ Put ’em up.” 

Instantly they shot above my head in the man- 
ner of the western desperado. 

“Ah, come on out o’ that! None of yer 
yankee tricks. Put ’em up British style.” 

So I clenched my fists and stood on guard. 

“ Now punch me on the nose.” 

Without a moment’s hesitation I sprang right 
at him, and before he could protect himself hit 
him square where he had told me. On which he 
shut his eyes and spluttered and taking out his 
handkerchief checked the thin red stream that be- 
gan to show itself, and going to the pad again 
wrote. 

“ Quick and obedient — when it suits him.” 

Then squaring up to me, he commanded: 

“ Do it again.” 

Again I sprang, enjoying it immensely, but this 
time he caught my wrist and giving it a turn slewed 
me round so that I bent low down with my right 
hand forced behind my back, sheer up between 
my shoulder blades, and I was helpless. 

“ Now what are ye going to do about ut? ” he 
asked, exulting. 


SEEKS TO CLASSIFY AN INSECT 133 

“ Nothing, sir.” 

“ And why not? ” 

“ Because I don’t understand wrestling, sir.” 

So he let me go again and wrote upon his pad: 

“ Has a fair amount of wisdom as well as cour- 
age.” 

Then he pointed to his dumb-bells. 

“ Lift one of those above yer head,” he or- 
dered. 

I tucked up my sleeves and bent down to the 
nearest one. The balls were large and round and 
I saw that each was stamped with the number 
twenty-five. So grasping the bell firmly I raised 
it off the ground, whereon it swung between my 
legs and threw me off my balance so that I 
sprawled upon my hands. 

His fresh, clean-shaven face and violet eyes lit 
up with huge enjoyment. 

“ Ah, that’s beaten ye ! ” he chuckled. 

“ Not yet, sir,” I panted as I bent myself to 
another trial. 

Grasping it in both my hands I slid it artfully 
along the ground until its weight were well be- 
tween my feet, then resting my elbows upon my 
knees I forced it slowly up, sliding my arms along 
my thighs until I’d got it level with my hip, then 
bending over to the right I dug my elbow well 
within my ribs, and with the purchase thus gained 
slowly raised it level with my shoulder when, free- 


134 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

ing my left hand, I lowered my body under it until 
to all appearance I was raising it with mighty 
thews above my head; then reversing the ma- 
noeuvres I quickly slid it to the ground again and 
stood before him flushed and panting and with 
shining eyes. 

“ Good,” he said, approvingly. “ I didn’t think 
it was in ye.” 

Then going to the pad again he wrote : 

“ The insect is willing, has cunning and is a 
powerful gossoon.” 

“ Now, me bye,” he said, suddenly, sitting down 
in his chair and lighting himself a cigarette, “ I’ll 
have ye know this. I’m a specialist in diseases 
and disorders of the brain and nerves, and people 
come to see me here who want a lot of delicate 
handling. It will be your duty to open the door 
to them, show them into the waiting room and 
into my consulting room in turn. Ye will be tact- 
ful, alert, attentive, and above all keep yer mouth 
shut. Ye will clean the brass on the door out- 
side, keep my consulting room and instruments in 
order, and keep yer heavy hands off my collec- 
tion.” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“Ye will live here, d’ye understand, and when 
the consulting hours are over you will make yeself 
useful about the house, and if I find ye’ve got 
anything in ye, I don’t know but I might let ye 


SEEKS TO CLASSIFY AN INSECT 135 

help me in classifying my collection and cata- 
loguing my insects, and ye might become me secre- 
tary.” 

“ Thank you, sir.” 

“Ye will wear a livery wid buttons down the 
front, and work from seven in the morning until 
six at night, when you’ll be free.” 

“ Thank you, sir.” 

“ And I’ll pay ye seven shillings a week and your 
board.” 

“ Thank you, sir.” 

“ And ye’ll start next Monday.” 

“ I’d sooner start now, sir,” I said, fearing what 
might happen before next Monday came. 

“ Sooner start now, would ye? ” he exclaimed, 
highly pleased. “ Then, bedad, ye’ll start to-mor- 
row.” 

After that I left him to make my arrangements 
with the Ponds and prepare myself for the new 
life in which art and all such useless trash would 
play no part and have no being. 


CHAPTER IX 


A SMELL OF PAINT 

Although they were sorry that I must go so 
soon, my friends were all mighty pleased to hear 
I had at last cast anchor within a safe and well 
protected harbour, particularly Mrs. Pond, who 
thought that here was an environment which would 
in time wean me completely from my dangerous 
and fickle love. On the other hand Alec was keenly 
disappointed. 

“ Jim,” he said, with much feeling, “ it grieves 
me to the core to see you going into bondage. 
How are the mighty fallen! Out upon thee for 
a luckless wight! ” 

“ y^/exander,” protested his good wife, “how 
can you put such thoughts into the child’s head. 
He is on the brink of a career and yet you’d pull 
him back so that he may walk on clouds ! ” 

So they squabbled with very kindly interest in 
my welfare, while I packed my few things into a 
box that Mrs. Pond had found for me. Alec 
came with me to the street off Cavendish Square 
and helped me with my little box, and promising 
to come to him on Sunday, I left him standing 
in the rain, a desolate picture of despondency. 

Doctor Redcar sent me off at once to a tailor’s 
136 


A SMELL OF PAINT 


137 


in the Haymarket to be measured for my uniform, 
and as soon as I returned the trim and pleasant 
maid took me and introduced me to the house- 
keeper. 

As I was not to start my duties until my livery 
was ready, she took me over the house so that I 
might grow familiar with it. 

And what a house it was! A veritable treas- 
ure house of the wealth of all the ages. Arms 
and weapons adorned the walls in great profusion, 
Norman shields and lances crossed with battle 
axe and mace, while crusted helm kept guard above 
with many a secret locked behind its visor. Arms 
and weapons were there from Japan, arms and 
weapons from the Indies and from China and 
Peru ; savage club and knife and spear with gaudy 
painted shield and mask and headdress spoke with 
silent eloquence of many a bloody foray in the 
dark spots of the earth, beyond civilisation’s en- 
lightening pale. 

In the great reception room above there was 
enshrined upon the farthest wall an exquisite little 
Tintoretto, before which I stood enraptured and 
enthralled, not that I knew it for a Tintoretto until 
long afterwards, but I loved it for its own un- 
equalled charm and loveliness, and Mrs. Bunn, the 
housekeeper, explained that this was the finest ex- 
ample of an old Italian master’s work known to 
be in existence, and that its value was fabulous. 


138 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

And everywhere were insects, insects in glass 
cases, insects in polished cabinets, insects in frames, 
in boxes and under crystal globes. Butterflies and 
beetles and bees, fearsome spiders, scorpions and 
centipedes, beautiful and hideous, fascinating and 
repulsive. 

Only three rooms was I not allowed to enter. 
They were the Doctor’s bedroom, his daughter’s 
room and his study, which latter was a holy of 
holies to all that little household. Besides this 
house he had a country estate where he spent his 
week ends, and where his daughter lived the whole 
year through with her governess because she was 
weakly. 

Soon I was right at home, dressed in a little 
linen coat, very industrious and full of content, 
polishing the small brass plate upon the door, the 
knocker whose rollicking smile always drew an 
answering grin from me, and the doorbells, one 
for day and one for night, on either side the portal. 
And later when my morning’s work was done I sat 
upon an oaken bench in the hall, opposite a 
brightly painted mummy case, ready to open the 
door for fashionable invalids or those who thought 
that they were invalids, and afterwards to an- 
nounce them to the doctor whose massive bulk and 
well stocked head were quite at their service. 

Now although he seldom spoke to me, yet I got 
on very well with him. I knew that he was satis- 


A SMELL OF PAINT 


139 


fied, because when I saw my friend, Mr. Bardilow, 
who was now a house surgeon at the hospital used 
to tell me what the doctor said. According to this 
report, “ Jim was still unclassified but he hoped to 
stick a pin right through his middle and place him 
in his right category.” 

The little Tintoretto in its massive frame on the 
farther wall of the reception room, finding my 
heart unoccupied, crept into it, so that I made a 
compact with myself and saving what I could of 
my humble wages, bought a little box of oils and 
a palette, and a canvas of the same dimensions, 
and in the early mornings I used to beg the 
pleasant maid to let me help her with her dusting, 
and standing before my idol I would talk to it and 
worship it, and promised it that when the morn- 
ings were brighter and the sun was up betimes I 
would creep down there, when every one was fast 
asleep in bed, and make a feeble copy for my 
own. 

So presently the Spring came, and Spring in 
time gave place to early Summer, and every morn- 
ing I used to get up at half past four to work upon 
my copy. And when six o’clock had come I’d 
pack my things away and slink up-stairs again, leav- 
ing the windows wide open to let the smell of paint 
escape. That selfsame smell of paint was very 
nearly the cause of my undoing, for the doctor 
came in one morning and stood in the door- 


140 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

way with his head held high, sniffing like a deer. 

“ Where the divil does the paaint come from? ” 
he asked. 

“Paint, sir!’’ I answered, in very great sur- 
prise. 

“ Yes, paaint. Can’t ye smell it? ” 

I shook my head in mute denial. 

“Come here?” he commanded of a sudden, 
so that I approached him with much of inward ap- 
prehension. 

He looked into my eyes for full a minute ere he 
spoke again. 

“ What time do ye go to bed? ” he asked. 

“ Half past ten, sir.” 

“ The divil ye do 1 And what time do ye get 
up? ” 

“ Half past six, sir.” 

“ Half past six! D’ye mean to tell me that ye 
spend eight hours in bed and yet ye look as if ye 
didn’t spend six? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

Whereupon he made a note on his memorandum 
pad and without another word went out of the 
room. 

I didn’t dare to paint the next day for when I 
rose at half past five, I heard a stealthy footstep 
going down the corridor and a very gentle rattle 
of the handle of the reception room door. 

When at last I plucked up courage to con- 


A SMELL OF PAINT 


141 

tinue my labours I painted with the window 
open. 

One Wednesday morning in mid July when I 
was busy painting in a fever, thinking only of my 
work, I fancied there was something strange and 
unusual in the air — a formless evanescent and in- 
tangible presence took a hold upon my heartstrings 
and set them all vibrating, as if a chord of music 
had broke loose from out a Heavenly lute and 
found the answering chord within my breast. 

There was not a vestige of a sound, not even a 
breath nor yet a heart beat as I stopped for an 
instant and listened most intently, so I set to my 
work again and as I painted there it was once 
more, like the passage of electric fluid through the 
air, and it thrilled me so that I stopped again and 
very slowly and cautiously turned about. 

And then I jumped off my seat, and my paints 
and palette clattered to the ground, for I gazed 
straight into the limpid depths of my little lady’s 
glorious violet eyes ! 


CHAPTER X 


A SUNSET AND THE DAWN 

“Princess Ida!” I gasped, contemplating in a 
tumult of emotion the soft young cheeks and glo- 
rious chestnut hair. 

“Why! Why! It’s Prince Arthur! Oh 
how lovely! ” she cried, cuddling herself with such 
enjoyment that I envied her the privilege. 

“ Why,” I asked, puzzled more than I had ever 
been before, “ how on earth did you get here? ” 

“ Father sent me in to spy on you,” she replied, 
“ because he says you’re much too artful for him 
and always hear him coming. But you couldn’t 
hear me, could you? I’m not so big and heavy as 
he is, am I? ” 

“Your father?” I asked, in dull despairing 
horror. 

“ Yes, Doctor Redcar. Isn’t he a dear? ” 

“He your father! ” 

“Of course he is. Why? Didn’t you 
know? ” 

“ M-miss,” I said, with lowered eyes, “ I’m 
very sorry. Forgive me for the liberty.” 

“ The liberty?” 


142 


A SUNSET AND THE DAWN 143 

“I — I called you Princess Ida, Miss.” 

“Well, what of it? I gave you my permis- 
sion.” 

“ But, Miss,” I stammered, “I — I wasn’t your 
father’s servant then.” 

“ I’m going to tell him all about It,” she as- 
serted, mischievously. 

“ D-do you think he will mind. Miss? ” I asked, 
a bitter coldness gripping at my heart. 

“Mind!” she replied, frowning most fero- 
ciously and wagging her little finger at me. 
“ He’ll be most awfully cross and I wouldn’t be 
surprised if he turned you out this very day.” 

“ Oh, Miss! ” was all I could ejaculate, and I 
looked at her with appealing eyes while she turned 
her back upon me and stalked majestically to the 
door. 

Oh ! the dread and apprehension that I felt as I 
stood awaiting the dreaded verdict. Was I such 
a felon after all that even she must turn on me as 
she had done in righteous Indignation? Was it 
so much, this creeping down o’ mornings to find a 
little outlet for my cravings, that I must bear the 
pains of banishment because of It? 

Why had I not listened to Mrs. Pond who spoke 
from hard experience and been content to labour 
at my useful work and let this cruel vixen Art 
alone ! 

It must have been a quarter of an hour that I 


144 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

stood thus before the pleasant maid came in and 
spoke to me. 

“ James,” she said, “ the doctor wants you in 
his study at once, and you’re to bring all your 
things with you; ‘everything,’ he said.” 

The doctor was sitting at his desk fully dressed, 
looking very serious and judicial, while Princess 
Ida had her back to me and gazed out of the win- 
dow. 

“ Stand there,” demanded Doctor Redcar, 
pointing to the centre of the room before his desk. 

I did so without a word, hanging my head. 

“ Give me those things,” he thundered, in an 
awful voice. 

So I handed him my paints and picture, and 
looking to the ceiling now, for I feared to meet his 
eye, I saw that on its painted surface above my 
head were the twin fingers of Fame and Fortune, 
the one with laurel circlet lightly poised in out- 
stretched fingers, and the other with her cornucopia 
overflowing as if the luscious fruit would fall about 
my ears. 

He looked at my picture for a minute, then laid 
it on his desk beside the paints. 

“ James,” he said, very slow and distinct, “ so 
I’ve found ye out.” 

I nodded and hung my head again. 

“ I suppose ye quite understand that ye can no 
longer remain in my service? ” he asked. 


A SUNSET AND THE DAWN 145 

“ I s’pose so, sir.” 

“ Ye s’pose sol D’ye mane to tell me that ye 
s’pose it’s the right sort of behaviour for ye to go 
creeping round the house like a thief in the night, 
making copies of my most valued pictures and 
stinkin’ the plaace out with paaint? Tell me 
that,” he roared. 

“ I s’pose not, sir.” 

“ D’ye mane to tell me that ye think I can keep 
a boy in my employ who isn’t satisfied with the 
work he has to do, but that he must get up early 
and paaint pictures like an angel? Tell me that? ” 

“ Like a what, sir? ” I asked, in great surprise. 

“ Don’t answer me back! ” he thundered. 
“ D’ye mane to tell me that ye s’pose I can retain a 
bye in me service who goes and saves me daugh- 
ter’s life and never says a word about it? ” and 
he wrote upon his pad while I stared at him too 
dumfounded to utter a word. 

“ The insect is not an insect after all. He has 
changed his skin and is a very brave and modest 
little gentleman.” 

Then rising suddenly all abeam with smiles and 
with just a hint of moisture in his eye, he put out 
his hand. 

“ Jimmy,” he said, “ give me your hand. I’m 
proud of ye.” 

Whereupon my little lady turned around and 
jumping up and down like a fairy on springs. 


146 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

clapped her little hands while the sanctuary of 
science rang with her peals of happy laughter. 

I was inarticulate with pleasure and surprise, 
especially as I saw on his desk a picture of a sunset 
in a little strutted frame. 

“What are ye staring at, Jimmy?” he de- 
manded. 

“ That,” I answered, pointing to the picture. 

“Thaat! What of it? What do ye know 
about that? ” 

“ I did it, sir,” I answered quietly, gazing up 
into his face. 

“ D’ye mane to tell me that ye did that? ” 

“ Yes, sir, and when I went back to look for it 
it was gone.” 

At this he took me by the shoulders and leading 
me to the window gazed intently in my eyes. 

“ Jimmy,” he said, shaking his head, “ I caught 
ye lying once — about the paaint, now by the 
saints ye won’t be lying to me again. Tell me, 
what is it a picture of? ” 

“ The sun going down behind Fenbourne Ab- 
bey,” I answered. 

“ How far from the Abbey was that paainted ? ” 

“ About three miles, sir, on the main road.” 

“ An’ when did ye do it? ” 

“ Last August, sir.” 

“ The divil ye did. How did ye come to lose 
it?” 


A SUNSET AND THE DAWN 147 

“ Why, sir, I was taking it off my pad when a 
tramp tried to steal my bicycle, so I ran after him 
and must have dropped it.” 

“ Did ye stand by the hedge to let a motor 
pass? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” I responded eagerly, “ a red one.” 

“ Right ye are,” he said, delighted. “ I always 
have me cyars paainted red because of me name. 
An’ now then — what did you have in yer hand ? ” 

“ A toy pistol, sir.” 

He went over to his desk and turning back the 
pages of his memorandum pad ran his pen through 
something there. 

“ What are you scratching out. Daddy? ” asked 
my little lady. 

“ I’ve got down here that the insect is a liar, 
on account of the paaint,” he responded, then turn- 
ing to me, “ I beg yer pardon, Jim,” he said, 
“ ye’re not a liar, ye’re only a timorous genius.” 

And then my little lady must needs come 
straight to me and laying her little hand upon my 
arm hold out for my inspection in her outstretched 
palm the broken remnants of my toy. 

“You see I told him all about it,” she said, 
triumphantly. 

“ I’ll bet you never told him all,” I retorted. 

“ Everything,” she answered, finally. 

“ And how I kissed you? ” I asked, looking at 
her askance. 


148 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

Whereat she gave a little squeal and ran away 
and hid her face, while her father’s ringing laugh- 
ter nearly shook the massive books from off their 
shelves. 

“ Ah ! come on out of that, ye little divil,” he 
roared. “ She never said a word of that I ” 

Well, the upshot of it all was that because of my 
industry in copying the Tintoretto, and because of 
my bravery in saving his daughter, and because of 
my native ability as illustrated in the sunset, and 
because I was a good, industrious, quiet, intelli- 
gent and tactful boy, he decided he was going to 
take me under his protection, send me as pupil to 
the most famous artist in the land and give me 
the chance that such a lad as I should have by 
right — because he knew I would repay him — 
and here was his hand and his blessing. 

After which he made me go and take off my 
livery and, putting on my tweeds, he, my little 
lady and myself sat down to breakfast in the gym- 
nasium and the pleasant maid waited upon us; 
so that I was silent for reason that I was intensely 
happy, intensely thankful, and most intensely 
humble. 


BOOK III 


MAKING A NAME 







1 




CHAPTER I 


A NEW LIFE 

The Doctor’s plans for me were that I should re- 
turn as a hoarder to Alec’s house and occupy the 
rooms left vacant by Bardilow, now a full-fledged 
M.D. My time I was to devote to the study of 
Art. 

I had finished the Tintoretto copy by now and 
it hung in the reception room, framed like the orig- 
inal which the Doctor had carried off to his study 
and placed in a dark recess so as to the better pre- 
serve its freshness. Seeing him so kindly disposed 
I was moved to unburden my heart, telling him the 
tale of that dark old tragedy and of the mystery 
that hung about my birth. He shook his head 
over the tale. 

“ Sturgess you never were, Jim. Unclassified 
you came to me and unclassified you must remain 
until you make a name for yourself. And then 
I want you to take my own and be Jim Redcar.” 

He held out his hand and gratefully I put mine 
into it. . 

One Wednesday night the doctor gave a feast in 
my honour and at the board sat the two greatest 
artists in the profession. One was Justus Vander- 


152 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

docken, a painter renowned for the brilliance and 
purity of his drawing, the haunting sweetness of 
his colouring and his wonderful decorative com- 
position. The other was Dicky Day, the cleverest 
penman of his time, whose scintillating humour 
radiated from the pages of all the humorous jour- 
nals. 

“ Give the youngster his fling,” said Dicky. 
“ Let him draw whatever he wants to. Don’t tie 
his hands with hide-bound conventions, and he’ll 
make pots of money.” 

Vanderdocken frowned, as he answered with a 
snort. 

“ Horh ! dere is somding else petter for an 
artisd dan de volgar maging off money, and dat is 
devoding off his life to de peautiful.” 

“ He can do both,” snapped Dicky Day. 

“ Nod if he schdards out mid de maging off 
money for his objied,” retorted the other, quickly. 

“ I don’t agree,” answered Dicky stubbornly. 
‘‘ If he has the idea of eventually making money 
always before his eyes why then he’ll confine him- 
self to ‘ selling ideas.’ ” 

“ A peautiful gomposition worked solely for de 
lofe of peauty can pe a petter seller dan a gompo- 
sition dat is worked solely for its selling proper- 
ties.” 

“ But he must be governed by the market.” 

“Der marget! Dot is de curse of Enklisch 


A NEW LIFE 


153 


Ard. Iff de Enklisch ardisds had not von eye on 
de marget dey vould haf poth on dere ard, and 
poth de ard and de marget vould pe all de petter 
for id.” 

“ You don’t understand what I’m driving at. 
Here’s a youngster full of promise, with great 
ideas, vivid imagination and strong originality, 
born into the twentieth century, and what I say is 
— let that originality find its outlet in its environ- 
ment.” 

“Vat? You vould not deach him? ” 

“ Certainly not, let him develop on his own 
lines. What is more beautiful than a wild rose ? ” 

“ A drained von.” 

“ You mean an artificial one.” 

“ No, I do nod. I mean a berfected von.” 

And so they went at it hammer and tongs, to the 
great amusement of Doctor Redcar. 

“ Gentlemen,” the doctor cried, radiantly, 
“ there’s a set of gloves in the gymnasium which 
I think will settle the argument wan way or the 
other, and I should be pleased indeed to referee 
ye; if Jim here will hould the watch.” 

My sunset was exhibited with much pride by 
Doctor Redcar and was very warmly praised and 
commented on by both, and when they had in- 
spected the Tintoretto and neither could tell the 
original, their staggering amazement was such that 
the glow of pride engendered within my heart will 


154 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

never cool till that same heart is cold in death. 

It really was my Tintoretto that decided my 
future, for after due and deliberate discussion in 
which the pros and cons were carefully weighed, 
the doctor decided to place me under the guiding 
eye and hand of Justus Vanderdocken. 

Justus Vanderdocken, having guffed the fish, de- 
cided that the first thing to do with it was to send 
it to art school for a short period, so that it might 
get a little necessary grounding in the primal laws 
of drawing and anatomy, in which he judged — 
greatly to my surprise — that I was weak. 

I was placed under the watchful care of a quali- 
fied art class teacher by the name of Flora 
Graham, a willowy lady with a figure like a tube 
of paint, aesthetic ideas in the matter of hair dress- 
ing, a thoughtful brow, receding chin and soulful 
eyes. She had a way of looking at me with head 
cast down and eyes cast up while she drivelled 
gushingly on temperament, environment, platonic 
attachment and the sexlessness of soul, which irri- 
tated me so much that often I was almost rude to 
her. 

One day she spoke of Morris and Rosetti, so I 
warmed a bit and told her of Miss Purvis and her 
aspirations, whereat she expressed a great surprise 
that I should know her and told me that she was an 
old and very dear school fellow of her own that 
she had not seen for years. I took her home to 


A NEW LIFE 


155 


tea with me one evening, and although Miss Purvis 
confessed to having quite forgotten her, they got 
on very well together, and sat and talked away 
while I watched and listened, smoking a cigarette. 

“ Don’t you love Hammersmith? ” asked Miss 
Purvis. 

The other’s lips curled slightly at this; but she 
looked at her companion with her eyes cast up, and 
there was a wonderful depth of feeling in her 
voice. 

“ Isn’t it artistic? ” she gushed. 

“ So natural, so full of quaint suggestion and 
picturesque associations.” 

“ But the people? ” 

“ Yes, the people ! How I love the people ! 
One gets down to the real first cause of things by 
mingling with the throng.” 

“ But isn’t their sordidness just a little — well, 
hard to bear? ” 

“ One can overlook the sordid surroundings 
when one has eyes solely for the soul of a com- 
munity.” 

Then came a pause while each looked into 
space. Miss Purvis lost in ecstatic contemplation, 
the other weighing her up from the corners of her 
large and colourless eyes. 

“ Yes, we are all one family,” Miss Purvis re- 
marked, “ working to one great end, that is the 
true meaning of life. And as to Art, its mission is 


156 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

to uplift and beautify. If it fails in that mission 
then is Art a misnomer and a mockery.” 

I was feeling like a restive horse by now, cross- 
ing my legs and uncrossing them, listening to all 
this cant and verbiage, knowing as I did full well 
that one but echoed the vapourings of the exiled 
aliens among whom she spent her life, while the 
other merely fell into line with her for some pur- 
pose too involved for my unravelling. So rising, 
quietly and unostentatiously, I roamed about the 
room awhile, and seeing that I was not noticed, 
crept outside and going down-stairs found solace 
with old Alec. 

He was in the kitchen making up the fire. 

“ What, tired of your company, my prince? ” he 
inquired. 

“ Company d’you call it? I’m glad you call it 
company.” 

He looked at me with not a little mischief lurk- 
ing in his eyes. 

“ How now, my prince, would’st thou for- 
sake thy fair enchantresses in such a boorish 
manner, leaving them to pine for thy return? ” he 
asked. 

“ They won’t do much pining that I can see,” 
I answered. “ I wouldn’t mind betting they 
haven’t noticed that I’ve gone.” 

“ Not noticed that you’ve gone! ” he exclaimed 
in much surprise. “ Are they then so interesting 


A NEW LIFE 


157 

one to the other that they do not miss you, noble 
prince? ” 

“ You ought to hear ’em.” 

“ What are they talking about? ” he asked. 

“ Art,” I answered with a sneer. 

“ Why surely that’s a subject that should in- 
terest you, Jim?” he said, with his brows gone 
very high. 

“ I don’t know,” I answered, feeling very bored. 
“ I like to hear you talk about it, or Doctor Red- 
car, or Mister Vanderdocken, but it seems such a 
sloppy, rotten, empty thing the way those women 
look at it.” 

“ And how is that, Jim? ” 

“ Why, soul and temperament and missions. 
Oh, let’s talk of something useful.” 

So we talked about the rabbits and the dogs and 
time passed by so pleasantly that I forgot the 
ladies up above until the sound of the postman’s 
knock took me up-stairs to see what he had 
brought. 

“ Here you are,” said Miss Purvis, pleasantly. 
“ Miss Graham tells me that she didn’t know you 
came from Dorset.” 

“ No,” I answered, “ I don’t suppose she did.” 

“ I always thought you were Scotch,” broke in 
Miss Graham. 

“ The Lord forbid,” I answered. “ I’m Dor- 
set born and Dorset bred.” 


158 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Then you know Ravenhurst? ” she flashed. 

“ Rather ! ” I exclaimed, completely taken off 
my guard. “ Do you? ” 

“ IVe never seen it,” she replied, “ but Fve 
heard about the pictures. Oh, do tell me ? 
Aren’t they very wonderful? ” 

“ I’ve heard they are,” I replied, evasively. 
“ Alec has a brother who is lodgekeeper there and 
he has seen them and told me about them, but of 
course I’ve never seen them.” 

A few days after I was much surprised to find 
that Mrs. Pond had a new lodger — Flora 
Graham ! 


CHAPTER II 


FLORA GRAHAM 

Flora Graham was always waiting in the morn- 
ings for me to take her to school, and always 
asked me in the evenings not to go without her as 
she wouldn’t be a minute, so that she was always 
with me like the poor, and what she saved in tram 
fares in consequence must have kept her in clothes 
I should think, for I know that I felt the drain 
considerably and resented the affliction. 

So one morning I very much offended her by 
going off upon my bicycle and leaving her to find 
her way alone, and I’m shot if, within a fortnight, 
she didn’t bring home a bicycle herself. 

Oh ! she was very artful was Flora Graham, but 
I hadn’t spent my boyhood among ferrets and 
foxes and weasels and such like things for nothing, 
and when you try to catch a rabbit it doesn’t do to 
handle the trap too much for they are very quick 
at smelling out a snare. 

One Saturday evening as we were all at tea 
Alec got a mighty shock, no other than a sudden 
and unexpected visit from his bountiful brother 
George, the lodgekeeper from Ravenhurst. 

There was a knock at the front door and up 
159 


1 6o JIM UNCLASSIFIED 

went Alec to see who was there, then there was a 
mighty lot of exclamation and exuberant surprise 
and a laugh or two, and then footsteps coming 
down the stairs, so that Mrs. Pond was all of a 
flutter for fear her hair was not as nice as it should 
be. 

Flora Graham put on an abstracted and artistic 
air as she watched me out of the corners of her 
soulful eyes, for I had heard the voice and, recog- 
nising it, felt myself go pale for fear as to what 
his greeting might be. 

So presently here they were within the doorway, 
Alec, all bustle and importance, leading the way. 

“ My dear,” he said, “ here’s George.” 

His wife got up most graciously and greeted 
her husband’s brother cordially. 

“ Why, George, this is a surprise.” 

“ Ah,” said George, in heavy banter, “ I 
thought I’d catch you napping.” 

Then as he was about to be presented to the 
ladies what must he do but fix his roving eyes on 
me. 

“ Why, who is this? ” he cried. 

“ Why you know him, of course,” said Alec, 
like the proud but blundering old fool he was, 
“ it’s young Jim.” 

“ Jim Sturgess, from the Goat and Compasses? 
Well I never! ” and he held his hand out some- 
what ungraciously for me to shake. 


FLORA GRAHAM i6i 

‘‘ Ever heard what became of your father? ” 
he demanded. 

“ No,” I answered, frowning. 

“ Ah ! awful business that was, awful business. 
I see there’s a big reward out for him. A hun- 
dred pounds. More than he’s worth. And the 
same for that other scoundrel, Beppo.” 

Alec asked his brother hurriedly if he wouldn’t 
like to wash his hands, and getting an affirmative 
answer they went outside again, leaving Mrs. 
Pond, looking fit to cry. Miss Purvis with a face 
of stone, and Flora Graham resting her chin upon 
her hands, watching me in the mirror opposite. 

When those two came back again I could see 
that Alec had been talking to his brother, and 
when George spoke to me again I was very grate- 
ful. 

“ Do you know, Mister Prince, I mistook you 
for a young fellow who used to live down in the 
village at home, and who disappeared some time 
ago when his mother was — ” 

“ Ah,” I broke in, hurriedly, “ I wondered why 
you called me Sturgess.” 

“ But now you see him in a better light he’s 
not a bit like him, is he, George? ” asked Alec, 
anxiously. 

“ Well, I won’t go so far as to say that,” replied 
the other, stubbornly, “ but all the same it isn’t 
him.” 


1 62 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Did I understand you come from Ravenhurst, 
Mister Pond? ” Flora Graham asked, in a languid 
and superior drawl. 

“ Yes, Miss, that’s my home.” 

‘‘ How is her ladyship ? ” 

“ Not at all well, lately. Miss. She’s come up 
to Grosvenor Square to see a specialist. She’s 
going all to pieces lately.” 

“ Really! Are you staying with her? ” 

“ No, Miss, I’ve only come up for a week and 
I’m going to stop here if Alec can find room for 
me. Do you know her then? ” 

“ Oh no, but Father was a very intimate friend 
of Sir Edward Lorrilow twenty years ago.” 

“ Was he. Miss? That don’t say much for 
your father, does it? ” 

She drew herself up, haughtily. 

“ I said he was, not is. Father is a barrister 
and he and Sir Edward Lorrilow were at Oxford 
together.” 

Then Mrs. Pond and Alec had a turn with him 
and talked of generalities and personalities. Flora 
Graham I could see, hardly able to contain herself 
because of something else she wanted to say to 
him. She jumped at the first opening. 

“ Aren’t the pictures at Ravenhurst very won- 
derful, Mister Pond? ” she remarked, casting her 
fly. 

“ They say so but I don’t know much about 


FLORA GRAHAM 


163 

them. Ask him,” and he nodded over to me. 

“ Are you quite sure you are not mixing me up 
with that other fellow again? ” I asked, looking at 
him very straight. 

“Why, hang it, of course I am!” he re- 
sponded, scratching his head in his vexation. 

George Pond stayed with us the whole week 
through with Flora Graham always in attendance, 
clinging to him like ivy to an oak, but I didn’t pay 
much attention, for by that night’s post there came 
a letter from Doctor Redcar telling me that little 
Princess Ida was coming up to London to make 
her home at the pleasant house near Cavendish 
Square. 

So, begging Wednesday off, I asked the doctor 
to let me take his daughter to the National Gallery 
and show her the pictures, and when Wednesday 
came I had her to myself the whole day through, 
and though I’d spent many a happy hour in those 
great galleries filling my heart with the wonder of 
the things therein contained, it seemed a very 
barren place to me this day because my heart was 
full to overflowing with the glory of the living 
marvel that prattled at my side. 

We lunched at a restaurant in the Strand and 
then went to Westminster Abbey, and coming back 
at half past four a motor car was waiting in the 
road outside the house ; and as we neared the door, 
behold, there was Lady Lorrilow, very pale and 


1 64 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

lined and full of dignity, just coming out, and see- 
ing me she needs must give a start and placing her 
hand where, in an ordinary person, the heart is 
supposed to be, staggered back against the wall so 
that the doctor had to come from his consulting 
room and use his mighty skill on her to bring her 
to. 

Later in the evening when his work was done, 
we spoke about her and I asked him if he knew 
what made her act like that. 

“ She said she’d seen a ghorst. I’m thinking 
it’s her braain and not her nerves that’s in need of 
patching up.” 


CHAPTER III 


A DAY OF SIGHTSEEING 

On Wednesday when I met Princess Ida at the 
steps of the National Gallery I saw something In 
the violet depths of her glorious eyes that played 
sad havoc with the shrine of Art within my breast, 
something wonderfully sweet and tender yet pow- 
erful withal, so powerful Indeed that it came on 
me like a violent hurricane and catching up the 
Goddess Art cast her down, as if enraged to find 
her there. 

So I hunted up that bit of ribbon which she 
gave me so many months ago, and sitting up at 
night so that I could feel quite sure that no one 
could spy on me, I made myself a little bag of 
oiled silk and, attaching a tape at either corner, 
wore it ever after on my heart. I had it on Satur- 
day when she and I were to meet Bardilow at 
Waterloo and catch the train that took us Into 
Richmond nine o’clock in the morning. 

Bardilow was late, of course, and we had an 
awful scramble to get aboard the train, but we 
started without mishap, Bardilow picking up Prin- 
cess Ida as the train was on the move and putting 
her bodily into the carriage, an attention I didn’t 
i6s 


1 66 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

much appreciate as I felt that such was my un- 
doubted right For though I liked him very much 
and he was a very charming fellow, most consider- 
ate and kind and every inch a gentleman except 
for his weakness, and I owed it to his thoughtful- 
ness entirely that all these latter days were so full 
of sunshine for me, yet somehow I wished that he 
had not come. However, by the time we got to 
Richmond I had conquered my ill humour and was 
as bright and joyous as the other two. 

That gaunt and silent spectre of a dead and 
gone posterity. The Star and Garter, frowned 
upon us with a disapproving eye as we went into 
the pretty gardens at its foot to gaze upon the 
view, about whose beauties and enchantment Bar- 
dilow waxed eloquent, pointing out the lovely sil- 
ver stream winding away from the riot of foliage 
of Petersham below us till lost in haunting vapours, 
indefinite and tantalising, far away upon our left. 
But I heard none of it, for in order that we might 
both benefit equally by his description he needs 
must come between my sweet Princess and me; 
and all I saw and all that I could hear, was my 
own heart pounding on my ribs. 

Princess Ida’s violet eyes were very soft with 
pleasure as she listened to his rhapsodies. That 
is, they were whenever I could see them which was 
not as often as I could have wished, for every 
time I looked her way, behold, I had to strain my 


A DAY OF SIGHTSEEING 167 

eyes around the person of the man who’d come 
between. And so he stood between my heart’s 
delight and me and prattled on about his silly view, 
until I thought within myself that this same view 
were poor and overrated beside a vision that I con- 
jured up of a little winding lane, verdant and 
flower bedecked, down which a little fairy sped, 
who didn’t dare to look backward because I had 
kissed her. 

So I swore a solemn oath within myself that be- 
fore this very day were dead, if I got the chance. 
I’d do it again and again, and yet again. 

We chased a rabbit here and there and frolicked 
with the deer, and Bardilow, glancing at his watch 
while yet we were in sight of the gleaming walls 
of White Lodge, was taken with an inspiration. 

“ Come on, kids,” he said all of a sudden, 
“ there’s a steamboat leaving here at twelve 
o’clock that’ll take us on to Hampton Court in 
time for lunch.” 

So back we went again, out through the gates 
and down to the river where, by the foot of the 
bridge, we waited for the Hampton boat — with 
Princess Ida always in the middle. 

And presently we three were on the steamboat’s 
deck, Bardilow standing in the bows, laughing and 
shouting like a schoolboy in pure delight, and beat- 
ing time as a band of four strummed out the sor- 
rows of a man who yearned for Alice. 


i68 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“Alice!” I sneered, within my joyous heart, 
“ who cares where Alice is so long as Princess Ida 
is at my side with no one in between I ” 

On looking back upon that most delightful ex- 
cursion I am moved to remark that the person who 
invented the truism “ love is blind ” knew what he 
was talking about, for though the reaches between 
Richmond and Hampton Court are full of charm 
and beauty I can recall nothing of what I saw ex- 
cept the fact that my little lady’s eyes were violet, 
and her glorious hair a chestnut brown. 

However, we eventually landed and soon were 
at the Palace, and Bardilow, finding a hotel be- 
yond the gates, suggested that we two see the maze 
while he interviewed the landlord and made ar- 
rangements for our lunch. 

And then the spirit of romance took a hold upon 
my sweet Princess, so that turning to me with shin- 
ing eyes she clapped her little hands together and 
fairly danced with glee. 

“ Jim,” she said, “ let us play that I am Prin- 
cess Ida imprisoned by a dreadful ogre in his cas- 
tle, and you are Prince Arthur come to search for 
her and rescue her. Won’t that be lovely ? ” 

“ Rather,” I replied, delighted. “ How do 
you play it? ” 

“ Why, like this to be sure,” and darting 
through an opening in the hedge she disappeared 
into the maze. 


A DAY OF SIGHTSEEING 169 

I stood for a instant too surprised to move, 
then ran through the opening after her. 

The hedge went either way, with a turning to the 
left and another to the right, so after a momentary 
pause I went to the left and peered around the 
bend. Not seeing her I retraced my steps and 
peered again around the other to the right. 

“ Princess Ida ! ” I called. 

“ Prince Arthur ! ” came her voice behind me 
to the right. 

“Where?” I asked. 

“ Why here to be sure,” was her reply. 

So off I went again and once I heard her little 
feet the other side of the hedge, and feeling cer- 
tain I had caught her, I crouched low till I came to 
a bend which I darted round as noisily as I could. 

“ Ha ! I’ve got you ! ” I cried. 

But she wasn’t there, at which I began to feel a 
trifle vexed. 

“ Where are you. Princess Ida ? ” I cried, anx- 
iously. 

“ Who is it calls? ” came her voice, so close that 
I turned round on the instant certain she was there 
behind me. 

But no, nothing but that aggravating hedge. 

“ Prince Arthur calls,” I answered. 

“And what does Prince Arthur want?” she 
said, with a deep and terrifying growl, pretending 
to be the ogre. 


170 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ He’s come to rescue Princess Ida,” I replied, 
wishing heartily that the game was over. 

“ Can’t you see me? ” 

I looked around and peered between the leaves 
most anxiously, but not a sign of her could I see 
anywhere. 

“ Look up,” she commanded. 

I looked up and saw nothing but the sky. 

“ No,” came her sweet voice again, ‘‘ go over 
to the other side, and then look up.” 

So following instructions I turned about and 
looked, and there she was on a little wooden plat- 
form up above my head laughing down upon me. 
I quickly climbed the wooden steps and took her In 
my arms. 

“ Saved,” I cried, “ the Prince has saved his 
sweet Princess from the frowning ogre’s keep. 
And now,” I continued, with heart aflutter, 
“ Prince Arthur claims his just reward for rescu- 
ing you from that dreadful ogre whose awful voice 
I heard just now.” 

On hearing which she hung her pretty head and 
blushed most winsomely, then lifting up her lovely 
eyes looked shyly Into mine. 

“ Ida, dear, do you love me? ” 

She was silent in my embrace, throwing her 
little head back upon my shoulder with her pretty 
lips pressed up and eyes tight shut, and the man 
who could resist it never yet was born ! 


A DAY OF SIGHTSEEING 


171 

Bardilow was waiting for us just inside the 
porch with his face a little flushed, as were our 
own, and eyes bright and sparkling. 

“ Come on, kids,” he said, ‘‘ you’re looking 
famished,” at which he winked most solemnly at 
me. 

I had thought that sending us into the maze as 
he had done was just a blind to get us out of the 
way while he prepared a surprise for us in the mat- 
ter of refreshment, but the lunch was just an or- 
dinary one. Moreover, he protested that he 
wasn’t hungry, and though his spirits were uneven 
so that sometimes he was very jolly while at others 
he was wrapped in mortal gloom, he tasted nothing 
until the dessert came when, toying with a pear, 
he laid it suddenly on his plate and got up and left 
the table. 

“Whatever is the matter with him?” asked 
Princess Ida. 

“ Haven’t the faintest idea,” I answered. 

However, I was in enough anxiety to beg my 
little lady to excuse me while I went in search of 
him. 

The waiter seeing me go out came after me. 

“ You’ll find him in the billiard room, sir,” he 
whispered. 

“ You don’t mean to say he’s — ” 

I paused, anger surging hot within my breast. 

“ Been agoing of it, sir. He’s pretty bad.” 


172 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

So Into the billiard room I bounced and there 
he was, lying on a settee with a glass of brandy on 
the little table at his side. 

“ You beast! ” I whispered, hoarsely, as picking 
up the glass I dashed it to the ground. 

“ Alright, Jim,” he answered, sleepily. “ Sorry 
old chap. Take her on the river for a bit. I’ll 
be berrer by and by.” 

“ Why did you do it? ” I asked him, savagely. 
“ What do you want to spoil our day like this 
for? ” 

“ I couldn’t bear to see you, Jim, so young and 
fresh and — You are happy, Jim old chap, aren’t 
you? ” 

“ I was, till now,” I answered, gloomily. 

“ Don’t you ever touch it, there’s a good chap. 
Go back to her, old boy.” 

And going back to my little lady I told her that 
our host was sick because of the smell of the 
engines on the steamboat, and that he would be 
better if left alone for a bit. 

So hiring a boat from the boathouse, we made 
for the overhanging willows near the bank to 
throw biscuit to the swans. 

It was about this time that I slipped my hand 
inside my waistcoat and taking out the little bag 
of oiled silk dangled its contents before her eyes. 

“ Jim, you are a dear,” she whispered. 

And so I kissed her again. 


A DAY OF SIGHTSEEING 


173 


“ Ida,’^ I said, after a while, “ there’s some- 
thing I’ve been thinking about that worries me.” 

“ And what is that, my Prince? ” 

“ Why, what your father said about some day 
taking his name.” 

“ Well! Isn’t it a good name? ” 

“ None better,” I replied, “ but if some day you 
marry me you’ll want to change it, won’t you?” 

‘‘ Silly, to be sure I will. I never thought of 
that.” 

“ Then how can you change it, if mine’s the 
same as yours,” I asked, triumphantly. 

“ But you have your own.” 

“ That is dead.” 

“ Well, Prince is a good name.” 

“ Come, guess again,” I entreated. 

“ What you want,” she said, punctuating her 
sentences with her little forefinger upon my arm, 
“ is a name that will tell people something about 
you, how brave you are and clever, and — and 
dear.” 

“ I’ve got it,” I cried of a sudden. “ Grubb I ” 

“ But that’s a horrid name.” 

“ It’s one that tells people who and what I am, 
for a grub is an insect that is going to be something 
better ! ” 


CHAPTER IV 


THE DOCTOR PASSES SENTENCE 

Doctor Redcar was surprised that Bardilow was 
not with us on our return, and when my little lady 
had retired to her room I told him that our host 
being overcome by the fumes from the engine 
room of the steamboat had been obliged to leave 
us early. 

“ Fumes from the engine room, the blagyard! ” 
he remarked. “ Ye’ve got a pretty humour, 
Jim. Did he say what the fuel was that caused 
the fumes? ” 

But having nothing to add I merely grinned a 
little sheepishly and lit myself a cigarette. 

Presently It came to pass that, Justus Vander- 
docken judging me ripe enough to be pinned 
against the wall, I left the pleasant Art School, 
much to Flora Graham’s sorrow, and took upon 
my shoulders the task of mastering the very ad- 
vanced technique in which he was so paramount 
and peerless. 

I found him a very able, very conscientious, but 
very Irritable teacher; and the way he stormed at 
me on one occasion because I dared to criticise 
174 


THE DOCTOR PASSES SENTENCE 175 

his methods, was such that ever after I kept my 
own opinions to myself. 

‘‘ Vat! ” he roared, with his great long brushes 
which were nearly a yard from tip to bristles beat- 
ing a tattoo upon the air. “ You tare to schtand 
up dere and legture to me, you inzolend gonceited 
buppy! I vill nod haff sudch dalk vrom you! 
Me, a member off de Royal Agademy to haff to 
lizzen to sudch dalk as dad vrom a pit off a poy 
vrom de Ard Schoools ! I vill pud you oud upon 
de shreed if you talk like dat ad me ! ” 

But Art resenting deeply the usurpation of her 
throne within my breast and being sorely discon- 
tented with her quarters in the attic, sulked and 
refused to be wooed by such a fickle, faithless wight 
as I, so that stagnation settled on my studies and, 
spite of all Justus Vanderdocken’s storming and 
wheedling and raging and cajoling, I was always 
distraught and preoccupied, living over again my 
sweet adventure in the maze and longing for the 
evenings when I could go and dream away the time 
with Princess Ida. 

After a few months the dear old doctor took 
me by the arm, and led me up to his study, 

“Jim,” he said, “ye are not progressing quite 
as fast as Mister Vanderdocken thinks ye ought. 
Can ye tell me how’s that?” 

“ No,” I answered, “ unless it is I can’t agree 
with all his methods.” 


1^6 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Ah, come out o’ that,” he replied, a little 
crossly. “ It isn’t fitting for a bye like you to criti- 
cise the methods of yer master. Ye’re there to 
learn, not criticise.” 

“ But I can’t help forming opinions,” I per- 
sisted. 

“ Opinions, Jim,” and he wagged his finger at 
me, “ are the outcome of the reasoned judgment 
of mature and practical minds, not the spon- 
taneous conclusions of undeveloped intellects.” 

“ Yes, sir,” was all that I could say. 

“ Now Mister Vanderdocken has formed an 
opinion and I have formed an opinion, and both 
our opinions being the outcome of our reasoned 
judgments are consequently the same, and the opin- 
ion on which we are both agreed is that you must 
go to Italy.” 

“ To Italy! ” I gasped. 

“ To Italy, Jim. He is going to Italy and will 
very likely stay there four or five years, and we 
think it will be best for you to go with him. You 
will then be able to throw off all your old associa- 
tions, devote yourself entirely to your studies and 
develop your undoubted genius in its natural and 
proper atmosphere; moreover, me bye, ye will 
have nothing to distract your attention there as ye 
have here.” 

“ But, sir,” I protested, staggered by this unex- 
pected bombshell, “ I thought I was getting on 


THE DOCTOR PASSES SENTENCE 177 

very well — and besides — I’m very happy here.” 

“ Ye’re much too happy here, that’s the trouble, 
Jim. A happy and contented man never ad- 
vances. A man who is satisfied with his condition 
in life never aspires to a higher one. Ye’re a bye, 
Jim, without a name, unclassified as when ye first 
came here and punched me on the nose, and ye’ve 
got to make a name and aspire to something higher 
than companion to Princess Ida.” 

He said it so unexpectedly and I was so unpre- 
pared for it. 

“ It’s not a bit of good, me bye, trying to maake 
me think ye’re doing yer best,” he went on, “ be- 
cause I know better. When Mister Vander- 
docken tells me that you are all the time mixing up 
his colours trying to get a certain tone of violet, 
and every model that ye paaint from has the same 
face, it’s time to let ye know that that was not the 
object with which I took an interest in ye. Be- 
sides when me daughter comes and taakes yer sun- 
set off me taable here and carries it up to her own 
room and hangs it on the wall, so as she can see it 
the first thing when she wakes up, why I think it 
will be better for the artist to pack ye off to Italy.” 

“ But I can’t help it, sir,” I protested. 

‘‘ That’s just the point, Jimmy, that’s just the 
point,” he answered, kindly. “ I would think ye 
a very hardened sort of wretch if ye could, but 
ye’ve got to remember, Jimmy, that Princess Ida 


178 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

is the daughter of an eminent man, and though I 
like to see yer bye and girl affection one for the 
other ye are much too young for that sort of 
thing. I’ll have ye remember, James, that though 
I’ve sort of adopted ye, ye are only what ye are as 
long as it pleases me. I’ve given ye yer chance 
because ye saved my daughter’s life, and because 
I think ye’ve got talent far above the ordinary and 
that it will paay me to do for ye what I am doing.” 

“ But Italy’s so far away, sir, and four years — ” 

“ Will make a man of ye, me bye, and if ye’re 
really fond of her, it will keep ye straight and pure 
and maake ye worrk all the harder for her sake. 
I’ve no intention to force ye, but it’s Italy or back 
to the buttons, so now ye know.” 

I answered bravely enough, though my heart 
was dead and cold within my breast. 

“ If you who have been so kind to me, sir, think 
it for my good, why then I must submit, and thank 
you very heartily for the great opportunity you 
are offering me, and I beg your pardon most sin- 
cerely if I have appeared not to be doing my best, 
but honestly I didn’t know it. I promise that I’ll 
do my very best while away to repay you for your 
kindness and to make you proud of me and — and 
Princess Ida, too.” 

He shook my hand most heartily and said that 
he was pleased with me, and gave me a five pound 
note to do just as I liked with, and taking him at 


THE DOCTOR PASSES SENTENCE 179 


his word I told him boldly that I’d spend it on a 
parting gift for Princess Ida, which made him 
beam with pleasure. 


CHAPTER V 


ART AND ITALY 

So it came to pass that Mister Vanderdocken, the 
eminent painter, and his pupil, who signed his pic- 
tures with a simple, humble Jim/* went to reside 
in the waterways of Venice, where Justus Vander- 
docken found the finest masters for me in all the 
different branches of Art. Anatomy I learned 
from one, the figure from another, composition 
from yet a third, while he, like the pilot on the 
bridge, directed and advised me, and all the time 
kept a jealous eye upon my originality, abusing 
me most soundly when I tried to work as he did, 
not because he resented any encroachment upon 
his preserves, but because he said that I, like him, 
must work out my own development. By the time 
that I was twenty I was hung upon the walls of the 
Salon, and many were the letters of congratula- 
tion I received on my achievement. My little lady 
sent me one of course, for she wrote every week 
regularly. Bardilow sent me an amber cigarette 
tube to commemorate the great event and told me 
that he was now in his own practice and was much 
in demand as a surgical consultant. Flora Gra- 
ham wrote me, too, and told me of her own success 

i8o 


ART AND ITALY 


i8i 


In the miniature room at Burlington House, but 
as she wrote at least once a fortnight her letters 
always remained unanswered. 

And so I lived and worked and grew and 
dreamed my dreams with Justus Vanderdocken in 
a villa on a vine encrusted slope, and I was as 
contented as a person undergoing banishment can 
be expected to be, for the longer I was parted 
from my little lady the fiercer grew my hunger for 
her. 

Justus Vanderdocken, being pleased with me, 
took me about and Introduced me to people who 
praised my work and feted me and made much of 
me ; and once he took me to a villa at Chloggla 
that was rented by an English family and I was 
presented to Sir Edward Lorrilow and his wife. 
I saw that his lips were somewhat loose and the 
expression of his face was petulent; I noticed how 
white his hands were and how he had a way of 
cocking up his little finger which brought back 
vividly to my mind the portrait I had seen of him, 
as a boy. In the gallery at Ravenhurst; and look- 
ing at those fingers I was reminded of a trick that 
I myself affected when at work, of cocking up my 
little finger as my brushes sped across the canvas. 
I thought of a face that looked back at me dally 
from the mirror as I shaved, and it was very much 
like this though different. 

He looked at me first with languid indifference. 


i 82 JIM -^unclassified 

and then he asked Vanderdocken to repeat my 
name, and Vanderdocken told him that I was the 
painter whose work was famous for its signature 
as much as for its brilliance, and that that signa- 
ture was merely Jim. That I had a little fancy 
to keep my surname to myself, and though he 
didn’t like fantastic attributes in painters, he had 
to close his eyes to this as much may be forgiven 
genius. 

So Sir Edward looked at me more closely and 
his face got somewhat flushed, then paled, and a 
hunted, tired look came in his eyes, and he asked 
my age and where I came from and if a tragedy 
had happened in my family, and the latter ques- 
tion I refused to answer, telling him he must, in- 
deed, forgive me for there are some things in the 
lives of most of us too personal for conversation. 
He was very restive all the time that I was there, 
and drank a little more than was decent while en- 
tertaining company; and his wife noticing our 
strong resemblance remarked upon it. 

“ Say, Ed’ard, it’s mighty cur’us, but he might 
be your little brother.” 

Sir Edward laughed immoderately on hearing 
this, then sunk into a gloomy retrospection and sat 
back in his chair with his hands in his pockets and 
his head sunk down between his shoulders, and his 
eyes constantly roving towards me and then away 
from me whenever I chanced to look at him. 


ART AND ITALY 


183 


Lady Lorrilow was very keen to see my work, 
so Justus Vanderdocken invited her and her hus- 
band to come to our studio on the following 
Wednesday, but they never turned up, and when 
we went over to Chioggia a little later to learn the 
cause, behold, the villa was deserted and bills were 
in the windows and a board within the gate. 

Princess Ida told me in her letters that her 
father was anxious for her ‘‘ coming out,” but 
she had answered that she absolutely refused to 
come out or go in, or do anything but stay ex- 
actly as she was until I was there to see the doing 
of it. 

Her father had talked to her in very much the 
tone that he had talked to me, so that she had 
suggested to him that he’d better banish her to 
Italy as well, at which he had spluttered and 
fumed in his impotence, and for the first time in 
their lives they had very nearly had an awful 
scene until she was inspired to remark that it was 
either Italy “ or back to buttons,” which made him 
laugh, and he had compromised by sending her 
down to his substantial house in the country. 
And there she was living and waiting for me, for 
she loved me more than she ever would have done 
if we had not been parted, and I must work hard 
and win undying fame for her sake. 

All this time Bardilow had been making rapid 
progress and his fame was noised abroad all over 


1 84 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

Europe as a surgeon whose skill and daring were 
unsurpassed. I envied him his rooms in Harley 
Street because they were so near at hand to the 
pleasant house in the street off Cavendish Square, 
so I was glad to hear that my little lady was again 
embowered mid the flowers of her country 
home. 

About that time Justus Vanderdocken told me 
he was going back to London within a year. He 
also remarked that I had been a good and con- 
scientious pupil and he was proud to think that 
he had had a hand in the moulding of a master 
such as 1. I say, “ master,” because that is the 
word he used. And had he thought me worthy of 
a lesser grade he would have put me in it, for he 
loved the truth above all else, did Justus Vander- 
docken. Early winter being now upon us, it being 
the third week in December and over four years 
since I’d last seen England or my sweet Princess, 
I began to think of the London fogs and wondered 
if they’d started yet, and I yearned with a great 
longing just to smell their acrid vapours. 

Vanderdocken had arranged with the doctor 
that when October was next upon the calendar, 
with the summer season over and London once 
more full, to take the Grafton Gallery and filling 
it with works of my conception, introduce me to 
the critics and society; so I stifled my desire for 
a fog and settled down with might and main upon 


ART AND ITALY 185 

the winter’s work, knowing that the happy day 
of my deliverance was less than a year off. 

Then a week before Christmas I received two 
letters, one, my weekly one from Princess Ida tell- 
ing me she was coming to town to spend the happy 
festival, and that on Christmas eve the Doctor 
was giving a party, and how she wished that I 
could be there too. The other was from Bardi- 
low sending me a copy of Miss Purvis’ book which 
had been published as a season gift, the Lord 
knew why, for there was nothing seasonable in 
it; and he talked about my future and his own 
success and wished me luck and asked for my con- 
gratulations; but what made me start up and 
throw down the gift book with its leaves uncut 
and storm about the room and chatter in my rage, 
was a casual remark he made about my little lady. 
He said that lately he had grown intensely fond 
of her and meant to put his fortune to the test 
on Christmas eve and beg her to become Mrs. 
Bardilow. He asked if I thought he stood an 
earthly chance. 

“ Did I think he stood an earthly chance I ” 
By all the Saints in Heaven and fiends in Hell 
I’d see to it he did not! 

“ Did I think he stood an earthly chance 1 ” 
No, I did not, for I’d be there to stop him. 

So packing my valise with just a few essentials 
I burst into the studio where Vanderdocken was 


1 86 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

quietly engaged upon a cartoon for a fresco, with 
his long wooden pipe in his mouth, and told him 
bluntly that I was going home. 

“ Going home 1 ” he gasped, glaring at me while 
his shaggy beard bristled. “ You gan nod go 
home yed. You do nod go from here dill Au- 
gust next. You haf nod yed god your suite gom- 
plede for de exhibition.” 

“ Hang the suite,” I answered, “ and hang the 
exhibition! It’ll have to go one short that’s all. 
I’m going home now, this minute, as soon as I can 
find a train.” 

“ But,” he protested, feebly, “ your art gomes 
first, Jim.” 

“ My art comes last,” I almost shouted. “ Too 
long has art come first. Too long have I been 
cradled here in art and culture, trusting to my 
luck and to the loyalty of friends who, when my 
back is turned, attempt to steal my girl from me. 
Fool that I was not to see through it all before 1 
Fool to let the bait they held before my greedy 
eyes blind me to their real intent and purpose. 
Fool I have been, but thank God, I can do it 
There’s a train in half an hour and I’m going to 
get it. Good-bye.” 

“ Jim, I brotesdt — ” he said, weakly, gasping 
at the remnants of his crumbling authority. 

“ Good-bye 1 ” I answered, shortly, with my 
hand held out. 


ART AND ITALY 


187 


“ But, Jim, vat vill de docdor say? ” 

“ Damn what the doctor will say I It’s what 
I’ll say to the doctor that will worry him most. 
Come, are you going to shake my hand, for I 
haven’t any time to waste? ” 

Seeing how determined I looked, he shook my 
hand and also his head as he wished me a pleas- 
ant journey. 

Oh! the agony of impatience and uncertainty I 
underwent as I sped across the frontiers! How 
I fumed and fussed and fidgeted when the cus- 
toms officers delayed my progress ! How I 
cursed my folly in allowing myself to be thus so 
foully tricked ! How I hated Doctor Redcar for 
his bullying alternatives. And Bardilow — of all 
the loathsome things that ever crawled the foul- 
est of them all was Bardilow! He knew that 
I loved my little lady better far than art, success, 
or such glittering gewgaws, and yet he needs must 
so betray my confidence in him as to try to steal 
her love away from me. Why had I not heeded 
the omen of the Star and Garter when my heart 
had told me what my head was far too dense and 
thick to understand, that he was the evil genius 
that stood between my love and me? 

And she — what could I say or think of her? 
Perhaps she loved me still as truly as she said she 
did, and they had prepared this precious Christ- 
mas party that together they might lure her into 


1 88 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

accepting this man’s proposal. This man ! This 
drunkard, this coward, this low and crawling thief 
who’d wormed his way within her father’s heart, 
and trusted to her love for him to force her to 
acceptance. 

A fog delayed us on the Channel, a fog delayed 
the train that would have sped across my native 
land but for its foul and choking interference. 
And I laughed most bitterly as I recalled how 
longingly I’d wished to see a fog ! But presently 
we entered Charing Cross, only fifteen minutes 
before midnight on Christmas Eve. 

I dropped my valise at the cloakroom and, call- 
ing a cab, urged the man to drive as he had never 
driven before, and as the clocks were chiming mid- 
night I drew up with a rattle before the door of 
the pleasant house in the street off Cavendish 
Square. 

I gave the cabman a coin and bolted out across 
the path, and as I reached the door, behold It 
opened before me and I fell into the embrace of 
Princess Ida! 

“ Daddy, Doctor Bardilow,” she cried, joy- 
ously, “ the spirit of Christmas has arrived 1 ” 


CHAPTER VI 


A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 

I STAGGERED back at my reception, halting and 
amazed, with all the fight gone out of me as I 
looked into her face. 

But this was not the little lady I had left. To 
be sure the eyes were just the same, the same sweet, 
haunting, captivating violet eyes whose depths 
grew softer as she gazed Into my own, the little 
rosebud of a mouth was recognisable as she smiled 
in her jubilation and clapped her little hands to- 
gether as she had done so often In my dreams. 
But the little girlish figure was no longer there. 
In its stead there stood a graceful goddess whose 
symmetry was such that my hands dropped to my 
side for fear that I should touch her. 

Doctor Redcar and Bardilow came beaming at 
her call, and seeing them, I choked back my reti- 
cence, and taking her In my arms kissed her on the 
mouth defiantly before them both. 

“ Now,” I said, as I glared with savage eyes on 
Bardilow, “ who’s going to propose to her? ” 

“ Bravo, Jim ! ” came the doctor’s cheery voice, 
“ bedad I said ye would.” 

189 


190 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“Said I would?” I queried, open eyed and 
mouth agape. 

“ Sure I said that ye’d come back and slay him 
if he dared to write to ye like that.” 

“ But I don’t understand — ” I stammered. 

Laughingly they took me one on either arm and 
led me down into the gymnasium while my lady 
went into the drawing room to entertain her 
guests. 

And the doctor pouring me out a glass of port, 
with one for Bardilow and another for himself, 
very solemnly drank a hearty welcome to me. 

When that was done he made me stand before 
him so that he could see how much I’d grown, and 
felt my arms and weighed me, while I fidgeted and 
worried him to tell me the reason of all this mys- 
tery. 

“ Now, me bye. I’m not going to praise ye, but 
it’s very proud of ye I am. Ye have been very 
faithful to yer contract and Princess Ida, I don’t 
mind telling ye, has been as good as you, and she 
begged me to have ye home for Christmas but I 
reminded her that Vanderdocken had agreed not 
to let you come until he thought the time was 
ripe.” 

“Yes, but what about Bardilow’s letter?” I 
broke in. 

“ Ah! don’t look at him like that! It’s fright- 
ening him ye are! Well she began to want ye 


A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 


191 

very badly, Jim, and Bardllow here said to me 
that as ye were now such a brilliant artist ye 
couldn’t be induced to leave yer work and that 
there was nothing ye loved now so much as paaint- 
ing and ye wouldn’t leave it even for Princess Ida. 
I told him he didn’t know ye as well as I did and 
that ye were a man before ye were an artist, and 
then he struck the brilliant idea of writing ye that 
letter — ” 

“ Then he didn’t mean it? ” I broke in, delight- 
edly. 

“ Ah, divil a bit of it he meant at all! It was 
just to maake ye come and leave Vanderdocken 
without me breaking me word to him.” 

“ Well I’m jiggered,” I answered. 

The doctor introduced me to the uncles and the 
aunts, the cousins and professors, as his boy 
Jimmy, the boy who’d come to him like a flash of 
summer lightning out of Heaven to carry on his 
name and make it lustrous. And as I heard him 
say it, my heart swelled up within my breast with 
joy and pride that he was so far pleased with me 
as to think me now worthy to assume the name 
that he had promised should be mine when I had 
earned it. 

Oh, that Christmas Eve that welcomed home 
again the prodigal son I 

I can see the drawing room ablaze with candles; 
I can see my queenly Ida as she sat beside me talk- 


192 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

ing, oh so breathlessly, of what had passed ; I can 
see myself again with hungry eyes drinking in the 
glory of her arms, her throat, her hair, her won- 
drous eyes, the blooming beauty of her fresh young 
womanhood. And the marvel of it gripped me, 
held me spellbound, and I felt within my heart a 
dread unreasoning and an unaccountable bashful- 
ness assailed me. 

And then when standing by the grand piano she 
sang, “ When Love Is Kind,” I found a further 
marvel in her voice. The modulated sweetness of 
it rang within my ears and flooded my yearning 
heart as with celestial joy. When she had finished 
she sat beside me once again, and hidden by the 
fulness of her gown I surreptitiously held her 
hand, and she let it lie there thrilling my fingers 
with its warmth and softness. 

Now though I’d come hotfoot from Venice just 
to see my heart’s desire and save her from a vil- 
lain as I imagined, and had thought of nothing else 
the whole way through but how long it took to get 
to her, now that I had got her all alone to myself 
for just ten golden glorious minutes I blushed and 
stammered like a schoolboy in her presence and 
hardly dared to look at her, and she was shy as 
shy could be and those silken lashes of hers kept 
getting in the way so that her velvet depths peeped 
out at me most bashfully, like violets half hidden 
in the grass. 


A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 


193 


So I fumbled in my bosom and found my little 
soiled bag of oiled silk, and taking therefrom the 
ribbon just as fresh as when I had stolen it, 
dangled it before her. 

“ Oh, Jimmy ! ” she said, blushing and smiling 
most divinely. “ You’ve still got it then? ” 

“ Still got it? ” I retorted, hotly. “ When that 
is gone from there you’ll know that I have ceased 
to love you.” 

“ My Prince ! ” she murmured, happily, and 
hung her head. 

So we talked the matter over seriously and 
calmly as befitted such sober persons as we had by 
now become, and agreed between ourselves that I 
was to ask her father if he would give consent 
to our engagement, and from that we fell to 
making plans for the fancy ball on New Year’s 
Eve. 

Her costume was quickly settled. Princess Ida 
she must be and no one else; but mine gave 
cause for much anxiety and speculation. The 
same old question that had worried us about my 
name came up and faced us grimly, it must be some- 
thing that would tell folks what I was and what 
I had been, so finally I suggested David Copper- 
field. 

“Oh how lovely! ” she exclaimed, ecstatically. 
“ David Copperfield had just the sort of boyhood 
that you have had.” 


194 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“Had he?” I asked. 

“ Why, you ought to know that much,” she re- 
plied. 

“ Poor devil,” I answered, feelingly. 

Thus it was arranged that David Copperiield 
would on New Year’s Eve, for one night only, be 
impersonated by no less a person than Jim, the 
unclassified, the son of sorrow, the insect who had 
grown to something better and who in the fulness 
of time aspired to something better and nobler 
still. 

So kissing her in quite a brotherly fashion, I 
went joyously up-stairs to the Holy of Holies, the 
doctor’s study. 

The doctor opened out a drawer beside him and 
took therefrom some papers and his memoran- 
dum pad, and laying them upon his desk addressed 
me thus: 

“ Here I have me own analysis of ye, Jim, and 
Justus Vanderdocken’s periodical reports, and 
there is only wan thing that I want to alter in me 
estimate of yer character, me bye, and that’s the 
entry I made when ye punched me on the nose. 
Ye remember that I said ‘ he’s obedient when it 
suits him’? Well, I’m going to alter that to 
‘ obedient whether it suits him or not,’ yet judging 
by yer conduct when I offered ye the choice be- 
tween Italy or yer buttons again I must qualify it 
by saying ‘ if proper pressure can be brought to 


A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 


195 

bear ! ’ But ye were young then, Jimmy, younger 
than ye are now and somewhat self-opinionated, 
and Vanderdocken’s quarterly report tells me for 
the past two years that he could not wish for a 
more intelligent, more obedient, or more modest 
pupil than you have always shown yourself. Yet 
he says ye had opinions which ye always kept in the 
background out of deference to his wider knowl- 
edge and experience ; but so sure were ye that you 
were right that ye always brought them up at un- 
expected times, and they are the outcome of some 
hereditary influence beyond his power to control. 
Now when Bardilow wrote that letter to ye and 
ye came bundling back to-night, as I always 
thought ye would, it confirmed me in my estimate 
of ye that, though ye were obedient in matters of 
the head, in matters that concerned yer heart 
there was no one to dictate to ye, so I feel bound 
to alter that entry again so as to make it read 
‘ obedient in matters of the head when proper 
pressure is brought to bear upon him,' but wilful 
should that pressure be exerted on his affections 
or his loyalty.’ How’s that?” 

I laughingly agreed with him. 

” And now I think the time is ripe to keep my 
promise to ye and take ye as my son, me bye, and 
now what d’ye think of that?” 

“ No, sir, not at any price ! ” I answered, 
boldly, looking him squarely in the eye. 


196 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

‘‘ And what the diviPs got into yer head now? ” 
he asked, intensely puzzled. 

“ Why this, sir,” I replied, with a twinkle. 
“ It is not fitting, nor decent, neither is it natural, 
that a son should aspire to marry his father’s 
daughter, as would be the case were you to for- 
mally carry out your very kind intention. I’d 
sooner you consented to let me be your son-in- 
law.” 

“ Ah, come out of that I ” he responded, laugh- 
ing boisterously. “Ye gave me quite a turn, ye 
did. Jimmy, when yer exhibition’s over and ye’ve 
sold as well as I’ve arranged ye shall, there’s noth- 
ing in this world would give me greater pleasure.” 

We shook each other by the hand. There was 
a lump within my throat, and I saw a trace of 
moisture in his smiling eyes. 

“May I ask her to-morrow?” I stammered, 
when my voice was under control again. 

“ Any time ye’ve a mind to, Jimmy,” he replied 
and turned his back on me. “ She’s all I’ve got, 
me bye, but there’s nothing I’d refuse her, nothing 
at all, as long as it was good for her, and there’s 
nothing better in all this world for a good woman 
than a good man ; but ye must have a name for all 
that, and ye must be content to be engaged for a 
year or two, for ye’re still much too young for 
matrimony.” 

So Jim Redcar I became at that moment as by 


A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 


197 


the magic touch of a magician’s wand, barring the 
necessary legal formalities which he promised 
would be carried through without delay. 

So getting up I held my hand out to the doctor, 
wishing him good night and a happy festival. 

“ Good night,” I said, “ my father.” 

“ Good night, my son.” 

Just then I noticed the curtains In the corner 
that screened the Tintoretto and an Impulse seized 
me to gaze upon the little picture that had meant 
so much to me. Drawing aside the curtains I 
looked upon It silently. 

The doctor being there I could not do what I 
was moved to do, that Is, kiss It In my thankful- 
ness, so I smiled as I left him, for it was my Inten- 
tion before I went to bed to do the next best thing, 
and creeping down to the reception room press my 
lips upon my feeble counterfeit. 

So down the stairs I went, oh so quietly, for 
fear that he should hear me and, turning the 
handle as silently as my sweet Princess had done 
on the morning she caught me, I slipped Into the 
room. 

A biting blast blew from the open window as, 
with hand upon the switch, I turned towards the 
wall at the farther end. A dim light glimmered 
from an electric torch and showed the silhouetted 
figure of a man before my copy. The long thin 
blade of an open knife threw back its brilliance as 


198 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

it travelled carefully with saw-like movement just 
inside the frame. Some one had broken in and 
was cutting out my Tintoretto, thinking it the real 
one ! 

My first impulse was to laugh to think that 
any one should be so fooled, and then a hot rush of 
anger came upon me because my benefactor and 
father was being robbed. So crouching low I 
sprang with all my might upon the thief, and 
throwing my arms about him pulled his hands 
down to his sides and pinned them there, then 
putting my foot beside his heel I hurled him over 
to the right so that he crashed upon his side and 
lay there, wiggling and moaning. 

“ Oh, my God ! ” he gasped, ‘‘ it’s stabbed me 
in the groin.” 

“What has?” I enquired, anxiously. 

“ This cursed knife ! ” he moaned. “ Oh, take 
it out for God’s sake ! ” 

Letting him go I rushed over to the switch again 
and flooded the room with light, and as the bur- 
glar writhed upon the floor he was not a pleasant 
object to behold. The knife that he had held 
within his hand was thrust down deep into his side, 
and as I bent to draw it out he turned his face 
towards me. 

“ Jim ! ” he uttered, hoarsely, then fainted dead 
away. 

The room swam round and everything went 


A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 


199 


black for just an instant, then clutching my hands 
to my cheeks to stop myself from screaming I 
gazed on the livid face of John Sturgess, my 
father. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE PASSING OF JOHN STURGESS 

Up the stairs I rushed, yet noiselessly for fear of 
waking Princess Ida, and flung myself within the 
Holy of Holies, but it was empty; the doctor had 
gone to bed. Feverishly I groped along the 
passage till I felt the handle of his bedroom door, 
which turning I burst in upon him. 

“Father! Doctor! For God’s sake come 
down quick.” 

“ God in Heaven! What’s the matter, Jim? ” 
“ He’s stabbed,” I panted. The knife is 
sticking in his groin! ” 

“ Who’s stabbed? What d’ye mean? ” 

“ My father. He’s down-stairs in the recep- 
tion-room. Oh, hurry, for God’s sake ! ” 

Without another word he came with me and, 
finding the intruder just as I had left him, exam- 
ined him intently. 

“ Ye did well to leave the knife there, Jim. 
He’s cut an artery I think. Ring up Bardilow at 
once, there’s a good bye.” 

So flying down to the consulting room I soon 
was on the wire, and after waiting hours, so it 
200 


THE PASSING OF JOHN STURGESS 201 

seemed, the voice of Bardilow came out across the 
line. 

“ Hullo!” 

Is that Bardilow? ” 

“ Bardilow, yes. Who’s that? ” 

“ Jim speaking. Come around for God’s 
sake I ” 

“What’s up?” 

“ I caught a burglar in the reception room and 
stabbed him. Hurry, there’s a good chap.” 

“A burglar? Well you’re making a lot of 
fuss over him.” 

“ Oh — Bardilow, for God’s sake don’t waste 
time. He’s my father and he’s dying 1 ” 

“ Righto, old chap. I’ll be round at once.” 

As I went up-staIrs again there was Princess Ida, 
very white, in a dressing gown, coming along the 
passage. 

“What Is It, Jim? A thief?” she asked In 
frightened accents. 

“ Yes, my dear, and he’s my father,” I re- 
sponded, dully. “ Oh, do go back to bed, there’s 
a dear girl. You mustn’t see. I — I stabbed him 
— by accident,” and I burled my face in my hands. 

Folding her soft young arms around me she 
kissed me very tenderly. 

“ Oh! poor, poor Jim, I am so sorry! ” 

Then because she saw the servants coming she 
fled back to her room. 


202 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

In a few moments Bardilow arrived in his swift 
little car and, patting me upon the back with much 
sympathy, hurried with me up to the reception 
room, and soon he and Doctor Redcar were bend- 
ing over their patient, while I stood by biting my 
nails in my agitation. 

“How did it happen, Jim?” Bardilow asked 
me, kindly. 

I told him. 

“Where was the knife?” demanded Doctor 
Redcar. 

So I explained to them as fully as I could all 
that had befallen. 

“ Nothing for it, Jim,” Bardilow said, very 
solemnly. “ There’s nothing for it. He’s 
opened the femoral artery. I can keep him alive 
for an hour or so, but that’s all.” 

“Shall we send him to the hospital?” asked 
Doctor Redcar. 

“ He’ll die on the way if you do, and I’ve no 
doubt Jim would like to have a word with him 
when he comes to.” 

When in the fulness of time he was conscious 
again the doctor spoke to him very sternly. 

“ Ye’ve done a nice thing for yerself, me man, 
and if it’s any consolation to ye to know it, ye 
haven’t long to live, let me tell ye that. That’s 
what comes of trying to steal another man’s pos- 
sessions ; but I’ll tell ye this much — it wasn’t the 


THE PASSING OF JOHN STURGESS 203 

original ye’d got hold of but a copy, so now ye 
know ye’ve brought it on yerself for nothing. 
Ye’ve got much upon yer conscience I’ve no doubt; 
but ye can confess it to Jim here, because I’m not 
going to have any complications with the police in 
this house, let me tell ye that, and when ye’re dead, 
ye’ll go round to the mortuary, so hurry up and 
make the best use of yer time.” 

After that they left us. 

“ Jim,” Father said, feebly, “ come here. Bring 
me some paper and a pen and ink.” 

I obeyed him with a heavy heart. 

“ Now write as I dictate. I, John Sturgess, 
late owner of the Goat and Compasses near 
Ravenhurst in Dorset, knowing that I have 
not long to live, do hereby declare that I have 
stabbed myself accidentally by falling on my 
knife while attempting to cut a picture out of 
a frame belonging to Doctor Redcar with the in- 
tention of stealing it. And I, also, confess that 
six years ago I killed my wife Matilda, with 
my own hand by stabbing her with a champagne 
knife.” 

“ You see I didn’t mention you, Jim,” he said, 
and his voice was very feeble. 

“ No,” I answered, dully. 

“ I owe you something for not giving me away 
at the inquest. 

“ You knew more than you said, Jim. I could 


204 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

see that,” he continued, after a little while. 
“ Where did you get to ? ” 

“ I was down in the cellar,” I replied, “ up 
among the spirit casks.” 

He was silent for a long time while I sat there 
longing for him to die. 

“ I’ve had a rotten life since then, Jim. A 
flash crowd put me on to this — they promised 
me five pounds if I would do the job — they told 
me it was worth thousands.” 

“ It isn’t worth tuppence,” I retorted, with a 
glow of satisfaction. “ I did it myself.” 

“ Where’s the real one then? ” 

“ Out of your reach,” I replied, shortly. 

He was silent and lay there with his eyes closed, 
breathing very heavily. 

“ Jim,” he said, now very weak, “ I dodged 
’em fairly smart that night. I shaved myself be- 
fore I left, and as I went through the woods I 
came across Beppo’s hiding place and there 
were his old clothes and his knife lying in the 
mud. So I put ’em on and burned my own things 
except my coat and hat which I laid upon the 
bank.” 

“ What about the signs of struggling? ” I asked 
him. 

“ I rolled about and stamped in the mud be- 
fore I put his togs on so as to make ’em think he’d 
done for me, too.” 


THE PASSING OF JOHN STURGESS 205 

Again he fainted, again I brought him to. 

“ I did many miles that night, Jim, and peddled 
buttons and bootlaces for nearly two years.” 

Another pause. 

“And so you knew all about it?” he said, 
musingly. 

“ Yes, I saw you.” 

“ You saw me? ” and he almost sat up in his 
astonishment. 

“ Yes, I saw you washing your hands.” 

“Good God! I searched all oyer the place 
for you, Jim.” 

“ I know you did. I heard you.” 

“ That was smart of you, Jim, to open that 
door and make me think you’d run off.” 

“ I didn’t do it to make you think I’d run off. 
I opened it to see who it was groaning. I thought 
it was some one outside.” 

“ Thank you, Jim, for screening me.” 

“ I couldn’t give my father away, could I? ” 

His eyes were closed again and his breath came 
very faintly; but with an effort he opened them 
and looked intently at me. 

“I — I’m not your father, Jim. That’s why I 
killed her — Beppo’s letter told me that.” 

I started up as if I’d had a blow between the 
eyes and staggered toward him, but he’d fallen 
off to sleep again. 

“If you are not my father, who is?” I 


206 JIM UNCLASSIFIED 

shouted in his ear. “Who is? Who is? For 
God’s sake tell me who he is? ” 

But he didn’t reply, he just lay there and slowly 
went a dirty grey, while with my ear to his mouth 
I listened for his breathing. 

And then I realised that he was gone, and with 
him, the secret of my parentage. 


CHAPTER VIII 


HONOUR 

I STUMBLED out of the gymnasium and found the 
doctor and Bardilow in the consulting room. 

Without a word I sunk into a chair and, nod- 
ding my head in the direction from which I had 
come, with a gesture full of eloquence, buried my 
face in my hands. 

Then I felt a hand upon my shoulder and the 
dear old doctor’s voice came to me. 

“ Ah, Jimmy, dear,, don’t take on about it so. 
Don’t ye be crying, there’s a good lad. I can’t 
bear to see ye.” 

“ Cry! ” I answered, with a harsh and mock- 
ing laugh. “Cry! Not me! This is one of 
Fortune’s little jokes. Haha! haha! ha, ha, ha, 
ha!” 

And I frightened him so with my maniacal 
laughter that he went to his cabinet and poured 
me out a draught. 

“ Take this, me bye, it’ll quiet ye. There’s a 
good lad.” 

“ I’m not hysterical,” I answered, quiet again. 
“ I’m only trying to be resigned. I never saw 
the joke till now.” 


207 


208 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Come on now, drink it up.” 

“ Don’t you realise,” I went on, unheeding him, 
that this is Christmas Day? A day of peace 
and joy and happiness, a day when all our sor- 
rows are forgotten — ” 

While I was talking, of a sudden I was seized 
in his powerful grip and held helpless with my 
head thrown back, while Bardilow came in front 
and forced the fluid down my throat, pinching my 
nose as if I were a baby. Soon after that a drow- 
siness crept o^er me and I knew no more. 

I awoke to find myself in bed, my own bed in 
the doctor’s house that I had not seen for four 
long weary years, and realising where I was a 
glow of pleasure flooded my heart and brain so 
that I turned upon my side and very contentedly 
went to sleep again, with a scent as of violets and 
meadowsweet about my nostrils. 

When, at last, I was really awake it came upon . 
me suddenly that I had been so for some time, but 
so sweet and peaceful had been my sleep and so 
gradual my return to consciousness that I could 
not tell when and where one ended and the other 
began; and looking over to the window I saw a 
fluffy head bent down in shadow over a book. 

Sweetheart,” I cried. 

Instantly she dropped the book and rising came 
quickly over to where I lay, and smoothing back 
my hair kissed me on the forehead. 


HONOUR 


209 

I closed my eyes and sighed in my ecstatic 
joy. 

“ Do it again,” I entreated. 

“ Better, dear?” she asked. 

“ Fine,” I said. “ What time is it?” 

“ Half-past four.” 

“ Good. Then I’ll get up and be down in time 
for Christmas dinner after all.” 

“ Oh no I Jimmy, that was yesterday. This is 
Boxing Day.” 

“ What?” 

“ You’ve slept for over thirty hours, dear. My 
poor old Jimmy, what a homecoming! ” 

“ Ah I ” I said, as memory returned to me. “ I 
think I’ll get up, dearie, if you don’t mind, and 
will you tell the Guvnor that I’d like to see him as 
soon as I am dressed? ” 

So picking up her book and her needlework, she 
smiled on me very tenderly and left me to my- 
self. 

When I was dressed I went straight to the doc- 
tor’s study, and the doctor was very tender and 
considerate. 

“ It’s glad I am, me bye, to see ye looking so 
fit,” he said. 

“ Thanks to you. Doctor, I’m quite alright 
again,” I answered, and seating myself over 
by the window, I looked him squarely in the 
eyes. 


210 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ I’ve come, Doctor, to thank you most sin- 
cerely for all that you have done for me and say 
good-bye. After what has happened I can no 
longer hope to be either your son or your son-in- 
law.” 

“God in Heaven! What has happened 
then?” 

“ Why, the other night,” I answered. 

“ Ah, come out o’ that! Ye told me all about 
him years ago like the little man you were, when 
I had ye on the carpet over yer paainting. Ye 
don’t mean to say ye’ve fallen out with Princess 
Ida? ” he asked me, very anxiously. 

“ Good Heavens ! No,” I answered. 

“ Have ye asked her yet? ” 

“ I couldn’t bring myself to ask her to go 
through life with a man of my parentage.” 

“ Jimmy, if ye hadn’t told us all about him it 
would be a different thing, but ye did, so there’s an 
end of it. I took to ye because of yer own qual- 
ities not because of what yer parents are or were. 
They didn’t concern me, and now they’ve both 
gone clean out of yer life so ye can just go and for- 
get they ever existed.” 

“ But,” I said, very coolly and quietly, “ he’s 
not my father.” 

“What?” he asked, astounded, “not yer 
father? What the divil are ye talking about?” 

“ He’s not my father,” I responded, doggedly. 


HONOUR 


2II 


“ And how in glory’s name did ye find that 
out? ” he queried. “Ye always said he was.” 

“ He told me so.” 

“ Then I’m very glad, indeed, to hear it, 
Jimmy,” he replied, very cordially, “ and now 
ye’ve got that off yer mind, perhaps, ye’ll tell me 
what it is ye want to say good-bye for? ” 

“ Because he’s not my father,” I insisted, look- 
ing at him fixedly. 

He was silent for a time weighing up within 
himself whether or not I had quite recovered from 
my shock, and, if not, how far my mind might have 
become affected by the suddenness and severity 
of it. 

“ Oh,” I said, “ you needn’t look as if you 
thought me mad. Can’t you see that even a 
murderer’s son may accept your generosity as 
long as you know he is a murderer’s son? But 
a son of nobody dare not in honour accept any- 
thing.” 

“ Ah, Jimmy, me bye, now don’t ye distress 
yerself about that,” he said, very kindly, patting 
me as was his wont when pleased with me. “ We’ll 
find out all about that and put ye right, me bye. 
It’s very fine and manly of ye, Jim, and the right 
thing to do, but I’m not going to have it, let me 
tell ye that.” 

“ But don’t you see I can’t ask Princess Ida 
until I know? ” 


212 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

‘‘ Of course not, Jimmy. Ye’re right there. 
Bedad I never thought of that ! ” 

“ And I can’t agree to be your son as long as 
my real father may be a worse and more despic- 
able criminal even than was the other one.” 

“ That’s a different matter entirely and ye’ll 
allow me to be the best judge there.” 

“ But all the same I’m going.” 

“ And what for? ” 

“To find him, sir.” 

“ And what are ye going to do when ye’ve 
found him? ” 

“ If he’s my legal father I will thrash him and 
force him to put me right before the world, and 
if he is not I’ll kill him as sure as my name’s 
Jim.” 

“ Ah ! don’t ye talk in that high falutin’ way, 
Jim. Stop it! Ye’re talking like a fool. A lot 
of good it would do ye to kill him.” 

“ Tell me,” I asked him, “ which is the better? 
To go to my death knowing I have avenged my 
own and my mother’s honour, or to live my life 
with the label of dishonour black across my 
shield?” 

He was very thoughtful for a little while, seem- 
ingly at a loss as to how to answer me. 

“ I shouldn’t kill him, Jimmy, no, I shouldn’t 
do that.” 

“ Either my mother has been wronged or fooled 


HONOUR 


213; 

— and perhaps she wasn’t even my mother — she 
never acted like one — but I shall not move 
another step until I know.” 

“ That’s a very noble purpose and resolve, my 
son, and I commend ye for it; but such a task is 
not performed without a lot of thought, and ye 
must lay yer plans out carefully, and work upon 
them systematically if ye wish to have the slightest 
hope of success, me bye.” 

“ But, Doctor ! ” 

“Ah, come out o’ that! Not so much of yer 
‘ Doctor.’ I’m yer father now, me bye. Let me 
tell ye that.” 

“ But for all you or I may know I’m an out- 
cast, a nameless thing — ” 

“ I’m giving ye a name.” 

“ With no legal standing — ” 

“ I’m giving ye a legal standing.” 

“ Without the common rights of citizenship.” 

“ I’m giving them to ye.” 

“ I can’t even inherit what is mine by right.” 

“ But ye can inherit what is mine by will.” 

“ What do you mean? ” 

“ An adopted son can Inherit by his adopted 
father’s will what a natural son cannot by nature 
from his unnatural father.” 

“ But you mustn’t do it.” 

“ I have done it.” 

“ Then you must stop It.” 


214 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ I can’t, the advertisements will be out before 
the end of the week. I’ve altered your name, 
Jimmy, my son, by deed poll, so It’s Redcar you 
are whether you like It or not.” 

Taking his hand within my own I covered It 
with kisses, while he stroked my hair fondly. 


CHAPTER IX 


ALEC REVEALS MY PAST 

The next day found me rattling the knocker of a 
hundred and three, Mall Road, and hearing 
Alec’s shuffling step come up the passage in 
answer thereto, I turned sideways towards the 
door and pulled my hat low down over my eyes. 

“ Have you — er — any — er — rooms to 
let? ” I inquired, hoarsely. 

“ Indeed,' sir, I can accommodate you,” he 
answered, standing on one side invitingly. 

I walked mincingly past him, while he closed the 
door behind me and bustled to the room that had 
been mine four years before, and bidding me to 
enter, extolled its comforts and convenience. 

“ Very small — er — isn’t it ? ” 

“Small, sir? Small did you say? Why it’s 
the best room in the house.” 

“ Um — er — beastly dark I call it.” 

“ Dark did you say, sir? You call this dark! 
A fine and airy room, sir, that was once occupied 
by a famous artist.” 

“ H’m,” I answered, “ it’s very close and 
stuffy.” 

“What’s that, sir?” he demanded in great in- 
dignation. 


215 


2i6 jIM — unclassified 

‘‘ Stuffy,” I said. “ Close and smelly, beastly 
smelly, phoo ! ” 

He looked at me in deep dejection with eyes 
so full of hurt that I thought he was about to cry, 
so taking off my hat I looked him full in the face 
and held out my hand. 

“ Took you in fine, old chap,” I said with 
triumph. “ How are you and how’s the missus? ” 

He staggered back as if he had been shot, 
dropping his hands to his sides and craning his 
head forward with his mouth wide open in his 
astonishment. Then he fairly jumped across the 
intervening space and taking my hand in both of 
his shook it till I thought he’d shake it off. 

‘‘ Why, Jim! ” he almost shouted. “ Why it’s 
Jim I It’s Jim. It’s Prince Arthur I ” Then 
running to the door he called excitedly down the 
stairs: “Rosamond! Rosamond! He’s come 
back again ! ” 

^^Who^s come back again, ^/exander?” de- 
manded Mrs. Pond’s somewhat peevish voice. 

“ The prodigal son, our Jim, our wandering 
boy.” 

Whereupon she gave a little squeal and in a 
few minutes she, too, was greeting me in my old 
room. 

And when I’d told them all about myself and 
they had told me all about themselves, and we’d 
wished each other a happy new year and when 


ALEC REVEALS MY PAST 


217 


Mrs. Pond had gone off again to get a cup of tea 
for us, he looked at me with all the pride of own- 
ership. 

“ It’s a proud, proud day, indeed, my Prince, 
that should bring you here to make my old heart 
glad with your success.” 

“ Ah, Alec,” I said, a little sadly. “ I’m not 
a success. I’m a failure.” 

“ A failure? ” he gasped. 

‘‘ Yes, my father’s turned up again.” 

He looked at me too dumfounded to speak for 
a little while. 

“ Alas,” he mourned, “ that our dead past does 
ever lie in wait to mar our future ! Has the doc- 
tor turned you out because of him? ” 

“ Good Lord I no,” I replied, stoutly. “ He 
wouldn’t do a thing like that. Besides he wasn’t 
my father after all.” 

“ Not your father? John Sturgess not your 
father? I always said he couldn’t be.” 

“Why?” 

“ Because a jewel such as you could never find 
a home within the head of such a toad as he,” 
he replied, with conviction, “ But how did he 
find you out? ” 

So I told him all about it, and when I had fin- 
ished he congratulated me most warmly on being 
so well rid of such a base connection. 

“ Ah, but don’t you see, old chap, how much 


2 1 8 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

happier I would be if he were my father after 
all?’’ 

“ And how can that be, Jim? ” 

“ Because it were better to have even him for 
a father than not to know whose son I really 
am. 

“Out upon you I” he replied, warmly. “A 
genius such as you is Heaven born.” 

I thanked him for his adulation and must con- 
fess I found it very comforting, and Mrs. Pond 
having prepared the tea we went down-stairs to 
the shabby little dining room. 

I looked up at the bird cage and found therein 
a successor to the old canary. 

“ You’ve got another bird I see,” I said to Mrs. 
Pond. 

“ Yes, Mister Prince,” she replied without en- 
thusiasm. “ Miss Purvis gave it to me when the 
other one died, a pedigree bird she said it was; 
but it’s got no voice. — It’s a hen.” 

“ Rough luck I ” I said, and made a mental 
note of it. “ And how is Miss Purvis? ” 

“ Very well, indeed. She’s gone home for 
Christmas.” 

“And Miss Graham?” 

“ She’s gone to her people who are in London 
for the holidays.” 

When I thought that sufficient time had been 
spent in such trivialities I asked Alec to come with 


ALEC REVEALS MY PAST 


219 


me to the doctor and tell him all he knew of my 
childhood, whereupon he lamented the fact that he 
was not smart enough as to attire, and spoke with 
longing of the old top hat and said he’d worn it 
twenty years and if he hadn’t been so reckless 
with it he might have had it now, as befitting such 
a ceremonial excursion. 

However, Mrs. Pond and I, with the aid of a 
clothes brush and a needle and thread, trimmed 
him up and made him look at least presentable. 

So presently we stood in the doctor’s study, 
and I presented my early benefactor to my later 
one. 

“ It’s pleased I am to meet ye. Mister Canni- 
bal,” said the doctor, with a twinkle, extending his 
mighty hand. “ Any friend of my son Jim’s is a 
friend of his father.” 

At hearing which Alec held himself very stiffly. 

“A friend of that scoundrel’s, did you say? 
I’d have you know. Doctor, that I was never any- 
thing but a patron.” 

“ Ah, come out of that! ” the doctor answered. 
“ It’s meself I’m talking about, not Sturgess.” 

Which made poor old Alec fall into such con- 
fusion that he fairly cringed. 

“ I am humiliated, sir,” he said. “ I am indeed 
a man cast down to think I so misunderstood your 
generous intentions, but my name’s Pond. For 
nearly fifty years I’ve trod the boards and Alex- 


220 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

ander Hannibal Pond is a name that though it’s 
known misfortunes, has never yet been bracketed 
with shams.” 

“ Ah, forgive me,” said the doctor. “ I’m very 
forgetful of names. That’s why I have me cars 
paainted red so as I shan’t forget me own at 
times. Ye’ve known our Jimmy here for a good 
many years? ” 

“ I’ve watched him bud, I’ve watched him 
bloom, and I hope to see the day when I will hold 
his fruit within my arms,” replied Alec, with 
emotion. 

Hearing which the Doctor made a note upon 
a memorandum pad. 

“ When did ye first know him? ” 

“ When he was but twelve years old.” 

“ Ye came from Ravenhurst? ” 

“ I have already said so.” 

The Doctor scribbled on his pad again. 

“ Did ye know this man Sturgess? ” 

“ Only as the dispenser of refreshment.” 

“ But ye knew Jim well? ” 

“ Ah sir ! he was the apple of my eye, he was 
my companion in my solitude as I in his.” 

“ What made ye take to him? ” 

“ The spark within his soul did call to mine.” 

“ Did ye know his mother? ” 

“ I have seen her and I have spoken to her.” 

“ Is Jim here anything like her ? ” 


ALEC REVEALS MY PAST 


221 


“ No more than is the silken purse unto the 
ears of swine.” 

“Who is he like?” 

“ Ah, there you have me as in a cloven stick. 
Never have I gazed upon his like nor ever shall.” 

“ Now that’s very nicely put,” said the doctor, 
getting a little impatient, “ but it doesn’t carry us 
along very far. What I want to get out of ye is 
this. Are there any tales about him, any rumours 
or suspicions down at Ravenhurst or any incidents 
that ye can call to mind to let a little light upon his 
parentage? ” 

Alec looked a little squashed, and fumbled 
somewhat nervously with his hat. 

“ There is one thing that has always puzzled 
me — 

“ Ah,” said the doctor, eagerly. 

“ I took him once to see the pictures in the great 
gallery there and Lady Lorrilow came in and 
turned him out I ” 

“ Did she now, and what was that for? ” asked 
the doctor, scribbling once more upon his pad. 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ What did she say? ” 

“ She stamped her foot and ordered him 
out.” 

“ And what did he do? ” 

“ Stood not upon the order of his going, but 
went right hastily — and I with him.” 


222 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

The doctor laughed in great delight. 

“ Come, this is more like,” he said. “ What 
occasioned the outburst?” 

“ Ah,” mused Alec, shaking his head, “ I’ve 
lain awake o’ nights trying to find the cause of 
it.” 

“ Tell me just what happened.” 

“ ’Twas on a Tuesday afternoon,” continued 
Alec, “ the sun was scorching down upon us, the 
larks were signing overhead, the wind was whis- 
pering in the trees when Jim and I set forth to 
seek adventures in the woods. It was our cus- 
tom, on Tuesdays when I happened to be at 
Ravenhurst to sally forth and play at slaying 
dragons and do the scene from King John where 
Hubert comes to put out Arthur’s eyes,” and he 
smiled at me a little wistfully. “ Well, we were 
walking through the bracken to the woods when 
Prince Arthur of a sudden broke away from me 
and went in chase of a hare. After a bit I came 
upon him locked in mortal grips with an alien 
bravo.” 

“Hey! Hey!” interrupted the doctor, “ye 
never told me that, Jim ! Go on.” 

“ An alien bravo of a sable hue,” continued 
Alec, “ who threatened him with hurt if he did not 
at once take him to his mother.” 

“Good! Good! now we’re getting at it,” 
broke in the doctor, his pencil travelling rapidly 


ALEC REVEALS MY PAST 223 

across his memorandum pad. ‘‘ What was he 
like?” 

“ Ah,” sighed Alec, mournfully, “ I would I 
could tell you, but he tarried not, so full of fear 
was he on seeing me.” 

Then I took up the tale. I told him all about 
Beppo’s visits to the house, his weary vigils, his 
cunning conversation with Bill Blay, the letter, his 
disappearance, and how later I saw him In the 
gipsy van. And when I had finished, the doctor 
pumped old Alec about our visit to the studio and 
made him say how her ladyship looked and what 
she said, and questioned him about his brother, 
so that poor old Alec was near to fainting from 
being badgered. 

“ So It was you who first detected Jim’s ability, 
was It? ” the doctor demanded. 

“ That Is an honour, sir, I will allow no other 
man to deprive me of,” Alec replied, wrathfully. 

Then the doctor asked him all about himself 
and showed him many of his treasures, including 
the Tintoretto In its corner above the cupboard, 
and when he had finished I begged permission to 
take my dear old friend about the house and show 
him others. 


CHAPTER X 


THE FOX AND THE GRAPES 

That same evening I sat at the little writing table 
in the drawing room going through the “ copy ” 
for an advertisement, which the Doctor had ar- 
ranged should go in every paper in the Kingdom. 

“ If William Blay, one time coachman to Sir 
James Lorrilow at Ravenhurst in Dorset,” ran 
the script, “ and Beppo, late valet to Sir Edward 
Lorrilow also of Ravenhurst and later of Chiog- 
gia in Italy, will communicate with the undersigned 
they will hear of something to their advantage. 
Should this meet the eye of any one who knows the 
present whereabouts of both or either of the afore- 
mentioned William Blay and Beppo, such persons 
are requested to communicate such whereabouts 
to the undersigned without delay and they will be 
suitably rewarded.” 

The address of Doctor Redcar’s lawyers was 
appended. 

I had read it over once and then again and was 
musing over it profoundly when I was startled to 
feel my lady’s hand upon my shoulder and a strag- 
gling chestnut curl tickling my ear. 

“What do you find so interesting, Jimmy?” 

224 


THE FOX AND THE GRAPES 225 

she asked, playfully, “ that you can’t hear me 
speak to you?” 

“My darling!” I protested. “Forgive me! 
I was dreaming, I think.” 

“ Dreaming of the days to come ? ” she asked, 
seating herself beside me. 

“ No,” I answered, sadly, “ of the days that are 
past.” 

Taking up the paper she read it through with 
her nose a little tilted. 

“Who is this Beppo?” she asked, when she 
had finished. 

“ Beppo,” I answered, “ is the tramp who went 
for me once in the woods at Ravenhurst.” 

“ And what on earth do you want to find him 
for? Is it to have him punished for attacking 
you? ” 

“ No,” I answered, awkwardly, “ he — er — he 
may know something about my father.” 

“ But your father’s dead. Why bother about 
him now? ” 

“ Ah, but don’t you see he wasn’t my father 
after all.” 

“ Well then, what do you want to bother your 
silly old head about him for? Sitting there 
mumbling and moping and not taking any notice 
of me when I speak. If he isn’t your father, then 
he isn’t.” 

“ Ah, but dear, I want to find out who is.” 


226 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Why, you know who is, you silly old Jimmy! 
Daddy is, of course I How many fathers do you 
want, for gracious sake? ” 

“Ah, you sweet little innocent! ” I said, look- 
ing lovingly into her glorious eyes. 

“ Well,” she answered, with a pout, “ I 
wouldn’t bother about a father who had treated 
me as yours treated you — poor old Jimmy ! ” 

“ Well,” I remarked after a pause, “ he may be 
able to tell me something about my mother.” 

“ Why,” she answered, very much surprised, 
“ whatever can he know about her? ” 

“ I don’t know,” I answered, plunging deeper 
in the mire. “ They were in service together you 
know, and — and perhaps she wasn’t my mother.” 

“ If I had such aggravating people for parents 
I wouldn’t be bothered with them,” she replied. 
“ I think it’s a very good job you are certain of 
one thing at least.” 

“ And what is that, sweetheart? ” 

“ Why, who you are.” 

“ That’s just the point. I’m not.” 

“ Not certain who you are? ” 

“ No,” and I sighed in my perplexity. “ If I 
did know, I’d take you in my arms and kiss you 
till you couldn’t breathe, you tantalising little 
angel, you, and ask you to be my wife this very 
minute.” 

“ But you’re Jimmy, of course,” she answered. 


THE FOX AND THE GRAPES 227 

with the love light dancing in her violet eyes. 

“ Yes, but Jimmy who? ” 

“ Why, Redcar, you silly boy, I don’t care who 
else you are.” 

How could I explain to her? As well try to 
explain to an angel why we vaccinate a baby! I 
couldn’t tell her it were better for her not to love 
me. She would only eat her little heart out in 
her desolation. 

“ Play me something, sweet,” I said. 

“ Very well,” she agreed. “ I will on one con- 
dition.” 

“Yes?” 

“ Tell me what I said to you a while ago ? ” 

“Said to me? When?” 

“ When I interrupted your dreams.” 

“ Pm afraid I can’t, sweetheart,” I answered, 
guiltily. “What was it?” 

She bent down nearer to me so that the 
fragrance of her hair intoxicated me, and wagged 
her little forefinger right in my face. 

“ No, sir. I shall not tell you, neither will I 
play to you. If you have got a sorrow that you 
will not let me share, that you’d rather bear your- 
self, then it’s not a bit of use you ever telling me 
you love me. You can’t love me unless you trust 
me. 

“ My dear,” I said, despairingly, “ it’s no use. 
I can^t tell you. Go and ask your father.” 


228 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Ask Daddy,” she replied, scornfully. “ I 
asked him yesterday.” 

“ Did you, sweet? And what did he say? ” 

“ Why, he said that you were like a toad under 
a harrow, and that he’d tell me all about it when 
he’d got the harrow off.” 

“ He’s got a very happy gift of vivid illustra- 
tion, has the Guv’nor,” I replied. 

“ Jimmy,” she said, persuasively, “ you’re go- 
ing to tell me.” 

“ No, I’m not,” I answered, very decidedly. 

“ Then you don’t love me, Jimmy? ” 

“ Passionately, my sweet Princess,” I groaned. 

“ Dear old Jimmy,” she murmured, and laid 
her pretty head upon my shoulder. 

Who is William Blay?” she asked, after a 
moment. 

“ He is an old coachman who knew my 
mother.” 

‘‘ Did he know your father, too? ” 

“ He knew John Sturgess; but whether he knew 
my father or not is what I want to find out.” 

“Who do you think you are, Jimmy?” 

“ I? ” I answered, sadly. “ I am the fox who 
wanted the grapes and couldn’t have them because 
they were always out of reach.” 

“ Jimmy, dear, the grapes are yours if you only 
care to ask for them ! ” she whispered, her glorious 
eyes very soft and shy. 


THE FOX AND THE GRAPES 229 

I gazed down at her in mute astonishment and 
blank dismay. An awful longing surged within 
my heart and the hot blood raced into my temples 
with a sickening beat. I trembled as I looked at 
her, fighting against the fierce desire to take her 
at her word. 

“Bless you for those words, my darling; but 
though the grapes are most divinely sweet, I must 
say no I ” 

“ Oh, why, Jimmy? ” 

“ Because you are without a flaw yourself, spot- 
less and pure, and innocent and undefiled.” 

She lifted up her head and gazed at me, puzzled 
and without understanding, then a light broke on 
her and she looked a little shocked. 

“ Do you mean, Jimmy,” she asked, with some 
concern, “do you mean you — you haven’t been 
a good boy all your life — or while you were 
away? ” 

“ No, not that,” I answered, laughing. 

“ Then what do you mean, you tiresome Jim- 
my? ” she continued, pouting. 

“ Oh, my dear, I mean — Oh, can’t you be con- 
tent to trust me for a while? Can’t you see, my 
love, how your persistence is torturing me? ” 

At once she was distressed, and throwing her 
pretty arms around my neck laid her little cheek 
by mine. 

“ My Jimmy, my poor Jimmy ! Jimmy, dear, 


230 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 


I wouldn’t have hurt you for the world — but, 
Jimmy dear, it makes my poor heart so heavy to 
think that there is something you are suffering that 
I can’t share with you that I — I sit up in my bed- 
room, dear, and cry and cry, for fear you do not 
love me.” 

At hearing which I struck my colours, and be- 
cause she was so pitiful and so alluring, and I, for 
all my stilted honour, was merely flesh and blood, 
I threw my arms around her and with burning face 
and hot, dry eyes kissed her on the hair and on 
the cheeks. 

“ My sweet Princess,” I said, when I was calm, 
“ henceforth, until the harrow is removed, I am 
your brother and have a right to kiss you.” 

“ Of course you have, dear,” she answered, 
happily. 

“Well,” I said, picking up the copy, “I must 
take this wretched stuff up to Father and, when I 
come back, we’ll put my past aside and as brother 
and sister play bezique till bedtime.” 

And thus, having put my skeleton back into its 
cupboard, we spent a calm and most delightful 
evening, and when bedtime came kissed once more 
as brother and sister have a perfect right to do. 


CHAPTER XI 

PRINCESS IDA’S DEBUT 


The next day, I went with Alec to Covent Garden 
and together we sought out such a costume as 
David Copperfield could have worn, at my age, 
and I stayed with him till evening, because I 
dreaded seeing my sweet Princess more than was 
absolutely necessary, and moreover, she was busy 
with dressmakers and such like folk, making prep- 
arations to look her very sweetest at the fancy 
ball which, on New Year’s Eve, would see her 
“ coming out.” 

I took old Alec to an outfitter’s, by the doctor’s 
orders, and fitted him out generally from top to 
toe and made him look prosperous. And his old 
heart swelled and his eyes beamed bright to think 
how smart he’d look so that hope revived and all 
his old ambitions were reborn. I also purchased 
for Mrs. Pond a new canary, a cock this time, one 
guaranteed to sing, and putting it within a bright 
and roomy cage we took it home and gave it to 
her; and because she was so pleased to see her 
husband fitted out so well and looked a little wist- 
ful, I suddenly remembered some arrears of rent 
I owed to her, and when next I saw her she had 
231 


232 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

done what I hoped she would, and looked very 
nice, indeed. 

Going back to Cavendish Square I bought a 
paper and found that the Scotch express had 
played its usual Christmas freak upon its unsus- 
pecting passengers, and running over points at 
fearful speed had tumbled down an embankment 
somewhere near Carlisle, and smashed itself to 
atoms. Among the names of the injured I found 
that of Lady Lorrilow, the old lady who had 
turned me out so unexpectedly that day I’d gone 
to see the pictures. She had smashed her leg 
above the knee and was lying unconscious at a 
Nursing Home. 

When I got home I found that the dear old 
doctor had a great surprise for me, none other 
than a bright, new, gold cased watch with my 
name engraved thereon, as a belated Christmas 
present. “ Jim Redcar,” ran the inscription, 

from his father.” I thanked him very heartily 
and prized it very much because, although I was 
by now a full grown man, this was the first watch I 
had ever owned. 

On New Year’s Eve Alec came to help me to 
dress and a very good job he made of me. He 
tied my stock and buckled up my trouser straps be- 
neath my insteps so tight that I commiserated 
David Copperfield that he was fated to appear in 
such uncomfortable garments. And when that 


PRINCESS IDA’S DEBUT 


233 


was all complete I went down-stairs and met my 
sweet Princess, and never will the memory of my 
fairy as she then appeared be blotted from my 
mind! Then the three of us, Princess Ida, Fal- 
staff, for such was the doctor’s fancy, and David 
Copperfield, packed ourselves in the Doctor’s car 
for the long and perilous journey between Caven- 
dish Square and Grosvenor Square. 

The party was at Margery’s aunt’s and surely 
never had that gracious aunt looked better than 
now, when, as Marie Antoinette, she stood within 
the spacious hall welcoming her guests. She had 
a word to say to all of them, a kiss for Princess 
Ida and many kindly words to me. Bardilow 
was there in a suit of shining armour and a stiff 
panache above the mantlings on his helm, and 
long before the revelries were half way through 
I found him seated in the conservatory with his 
helm upon his knees, holding a piece of ice he 
had purloined from some champagne pail to his 
brow, between his mailed hands, and cursing his 
folly, yet without the strength of mind to go and 
leave it. 

Not being a dancing man I was fain to sit and 
watch, and I gnawed my lips to see my sweet Prin- 
cess whirled off by all. 

Many of the guests were in evening dress and 
others came in mask and domino, and there was 
one, a purple domino, that hovered around much 


234 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

to my annoyance. Towards early morning I be- 
gan to find the place a little warm and as I dis- 
covered that my sweet Princess was tired with the 
endless whirl I took her arm in mine and together 
we slipped into the picture gallery. The walls 
were filled with portraits of Lorrilows dead and 
gone, so getting up we strolled about and looked 
at them. 

Suddenly I heard my little lady call in much sur- 
prise. 

“ Jim,” she cried, pointing at a picture. “ It’s 
you, the very image of you ! ” 

So, joining her, I, too, gazed upon the scion of 
a noble house, and reading the inscription I saw 
that it was the father of the man I’d met in Italy, 
the wondrous painter of the gems I’d seen at 
Ravenhurst. 

“ Jimmy,” she said, “ you’re not David Copper- 
field at all, but Sir James Lorrilow.” 

As I gazed with awful certainty assailing me, 
there was a rustle and looking round I came face 
to face with Flora Graham. 

“ Why, Jim,” she said, effusively, coming to- 
wards me with extended hand, this is a surprise I” 

“Well I never I” I exclaimed. “I never 
thought to see you here. Miss Graham I ” 

“ No,” she answered, casting down her eyes and 
looking soulful, “ my aunt brought me. When 
did you come back? ” 


PRINCESS IDA’S DEBUT 


235 


“ Christmas Eve,” I said, and seeing she did not 
intend to leave us, there was nothing for it but 
that I must introduce her to my sweet Princess. 

“ Miss Redcar,” I said, “ this is Miss Graham 
who used to teach me at the Art School.” 

“ Oh, really,” answered Princess Ida, bowing 
just a little stiffly, “ I’ve often heard about you.” 

“Yes, he was a very good boy then,” replied 
the other. “ It’s so like him to come to see the 
pictures. Do you know. Miss Redcar, wherever 
I am if I can get the opportunity I always make a 
point of visiting the picture gallery. Art is life 
to me. This is a wonderful collection,” she con- 
tinued. “ There are portraits here by Van Dyck, 
Holbein, Gainsborough, Kneller, Sir Peter Lely, 
and there’s even one by Blake, I believe.” 

Her eyes swept around the room until, at last, 
they rested on the picture which had attracted 
us. 

“ Why,” she exclaimed, “ what an extraordinary 
resemblance I Did you come as Sir Tames Lorri- 
low?” 

“ No,” I answered, somewhat shortly, “ David 
Copperfield.” 

“ Well,” she asserted, “ I never saw a likeness 
so remarkable I That might have been painted 
from you, Jim, even to this curl beside the ear,” 
and she fingered that selfsame curl in a manner 
that I didn’t much appreciate. 


236 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Miss Graham,” I said, with some embarrass- 
ment, “ may I ask a favour? ” 

“ Certainly,” she answered. 

“ Will you — er — keep this to yourself? ” 

“ Keep what, Jim? ” 

“ Why, any hint of this — resemblance,” and 
I pointed to the picture. 

“ Certainly, if you wish it — but why? ” 

“ I don’t want every one to be coming up to look 
at it,” I stammered. 

We turned to leave the gallery to Flora 
Graham; but she linked her arm within my little 
lady’s and praised her dress and made herself 
altogether so charming and delightful that Prin- 
cess Ida was quite taken with her, so leaving them 
together off I went to find the doctor. 

He was deep in conversation with a famous 
author, but taking him aside I begged him come 
with me into the gallery. When we had reached 
the spot I took my stand beside the portrait. 
“What do you think of that?” I demanded. 
“Good God, Jimmy!” he exclaimed, “it’s a 
portrait of yerself I ” 

“ Yes,” I answered, grimly. 

“ Why, Jimmy boy, then you must be — ” 

“ Yes,” I interrupted, “ if ever that man had 
a grandson I am he. If not, then why did that 
man Beppo recognise me in the woods ? And why 
did Sir Edward Lorrilow leave his villa in Chiog- 


PRINCESS IDA’S DEBUT 


237 

gla in such a hurry if it wasn’t that he’d recog- 
nised me? ” 

“ Jimmy,” said the doctor, excitedly, “ ye’re on 
the right track.” 

“Yes,” I replied, “but where does it lead? 
To honour or disgrace? ” 

“ I should say honour, Jimmy, judging by the 
way he acted. If it meant disgrace, he wouldn’t 
be afraid to meet ye; but if ye are his rightful son 
then of course he wouldn’t want to see ye again, 
because honour for you would mean disgrace for 
him.” 

“ Anyway,” I said, “ I’m going to find out.” 

“ How, me bye? ” 

“ I’m off back to Italy to-morrow, and I’ll 
search all over Europe till I’ve located him.” 


CHAPTER XII 


I SEEK MY FATHER 

The next morning found me once again upon 
the train bound for Dover and the Continent, and 
in the fulness of time I was knocking at the door 
of Justus Vanderdocken’s studio in Venice. 

“ Gome in,” came the old familiar growl. 

So in I went, and there he was putting some 
finishing touches to the last of a series of Venetian 
studies that he called my “ suite.” He nearly 
wept in his delight and said that if I’d only told 
him that all I wanted was a “ Christmas ” holiday 
I could have had it and welcome. He was glad 
to see me back again and hoped I’d settle down to 
work. 

“ Work,” I answered, “ I haven’t come back 
to work. I’m here to find the whereabouts of Sir 
Edward Lorrilow as I’ve got a few things I want 
to say to him.” 

“ Bud, Jim, your Zalon picture only wants a 
touch, and ze Agademy exhibit won’t take you a 
day to vinish.” 

“ I can’t help it,” I said; “ I’ve something more 
important now to think about. Art and success 
are a very bad second to happiness.” 

238 


I SEEK MY FATHER 


239 


He argued with me and stormed at me; but 
finding neither arguments nor rage of much avail, 
he tried wheedling and coaxing, and finally ap- 
pealed to gratitude and reason. 

“ Fve been vorking all de veek ubon your big- 
ture, Jim, to get it vinish for you. I dink you 
mighdt ad leasdt do choost dat mooch vor me. 
It vill nod dake you long and you gan gain noding 
by going to Chioggia, for he is nod dere. You 
schdop here and vinish oop your vork and den 
you gan set enquiries on voot quietly, and by de 
dime you’ve done you vill know pedder how to 
schtardt. Isn’t it?” 

So I gave in and worked feverishly for nearly 
a fortnight, by which time I learnt that Sir Ed- 
ward Lorrilow had gone direct to Naples from 
Chioggia, that his yacht was still there and that 
he spent the greater part of his time within the 
bay. 

So telling Justus Vanderdockcn as much as I 
thought he ought to know, and satisfying him 
that I went upon my quest with the doctor’s full 
sanction and connivance, I left my future reputa- 
tion as far as Art was concerned within his kindly 
and capable hands, and with heaps of introduc- 
tions from him and promises of more should I 
require them, went out across the United Prov- 
inces. 

I wandered anxiously through the streets of 


240 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

Naples, hoping that my eyes might alight on Sir 
Edward or his on me; and once I thought I saw 
him on a balcony, but when I stopped to look I 
found it must have been the shadows that deceived 
me — for there was no one there. 

A talkative old fisherman pointed out his yacht, 
riding at anchor- in the moonlight upon the waters 
of the Bay. It was a long, low craft, all white 
with just a touch of gold about her lines, and as 
I looked at it a party got into a boat and rowed 
out amongst the shipping in the direction of a 
liner. When I had pumped my garrulous in- 
formant dry I went back to my hotel, and dreamt 
of how I’d lay in wait for him to-morrow and have 
it out with him, and learn for once and all whether 
my lot was honour or disgrace. But in the morn- 
ing when I came down to look for it the yacht was 
gone and I had missed him. 

Gone — I knew not whither. Gone while I 
had slept. Gone while I lay and dreamt of how 
I’d force a confession from him. And I cursed 
v/ithin myself that I had not taken boat and fol- 
lowed in the wake of that other that rowed out 
upon the Bay, for now was I convinced that he to 
whom I owed existence was of the party. I sus- 
pected that ’twas he I’d really seen upon the bal- 
cony and no elusive shadow, and that seeing me 
he had vanished in the night. 

I sought out the hotel upon whose balcony I’d 


I SEEK MY FATHER 


241 


seen him and asked if they coiild tell me his desti- 
nation, but they only shook their heads and 
shrugged their shoulders, and spread abroad their 
palms and smiled most benignly. They told me 
that he hadn’t stayed there, but had only come 
occasionally and had a meal or slept a night or 
two, and then was off again across the Bay to Capir 
or to Ischia. 

Hot upon the scent, I found my fisherman and 
bargained with him, so that after much of chaffer- 
ing he agreed to take me in his boat across the 
Bay, and anywhere I liked so long as I could pay 
him just enough to keep his family in necessaries. 
But though we searched the waters high and low 
and swept them clean from north to south and 
east and west, no trace of either Sir Edward or 
his yacht could be found. 

Then I bethought me of my letters of intro- 
duction and called upon the friends of Justus Van- 
derdocken, and after many a dreary tea and social 
function I learned from some one that three weeks 
ago my quarry had been heard of in Reggio. At 
that time his intention was to cruise about the 
straits and probably go to Messina, or Malta, or 
even stay in Palermo till the spring. 

I immediately wrote to Vanderdocken for let- 
ters to Reggio, and off I started once again, 
through Campagna and Calabria right to the very 
toe of Italy’s gigantic boot. At Reggio there was 


242 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

no sign of him so I crossed the straits and landed 
at Messina, but he was not there. At Palermo 
I drew another blank, and though I waited near 
a week and called on every one and threw out 
many a fly, my fish was too sharp to rise. 

I met a world-famed poet at Palermo, who told 
me that his wife had heard from relations that 
Sir Edward Lorrilow was in Malta. 

Again I took the boat, and when we were in 
the neighbourhood of Sicily a snow white yacht 
with golden lines passed us a mile to starboard, 
going north. I begged a glass from an officer 
and scanned her build and rig, and saw upon her 
bows the well known name, Ravenhurst, and 
stormed and fumed and fell into a deep dejection 
because my quarry was near and yet so far. 

Valetta was a nightmare because I was impris- 
oned on a rock and every day’s delay put miles 
between us. I was a month upon the island be- 
fore I heard, quite casually from an officer, that 
Sir Edward Lorrilow was in Genoa; so I packed 
up my belongings and went hot foot upon my 
errand. 

At Genoa I found The Ravenhurst at anchor 
almost as soon as I set foot upon the quay, and 
remembering how procrastination had at Naples 
been the cause of my undoing, determined to board 
her without delay. 

The gunwale of my boat was just beneath her 


I SEEK MY FATHER 


243 

golden line when a man came up from down be- 
low and hailed me. 

“ Ahoy, there! Mind the paint! ” he shouted, 
warningly. 

“ Is this Sir Edward Lorrilow’s yacht? ” I de- 
manded. 

“ It are.” 

“Is he aboard?” 

“ He aren’t.” 

“ Can you tell me where he is? ” 

“ I can’t.” 

“How’s that?” 

“ ’Cause I don’t know, that’s how.” 

I bit my lip in my vexation and pondered as to 
how I might the best extract the knowledge that 
I sought from this unwilling witness. 

“ Are you expecting him back? ” I asked. 

“ I am.” 

“When?” 

“ When the moon turns green,” he answered. 
“Are you trying to be funny?” I asked him, 
angrily. 

“ No,” he replied, flippantly. 

“ It looks very like it,” I protested, flushing. 

“ I don’t have to try, it comes natural,” he said. 
“ Now what do you want? ” 

“ I want Sir Edward Lorrilow.” 

“ So do I.” 

“You do?” 


244 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Yes, I do. WeVe run out o’ bacon, we ain’t 
got no taters and I haven’t had a drink since Toos- 
day.” 

“ Then why don’t you go ashore and get one ? ” 
I asked him, laughing. 

“ ’Cause I’ve got to stop aboard, that’s why. 
I’m the watch, I am, when I ain’t the cook, and 
when I’m the cook I ain’t the watch,” and he spat 
over the side. 

“ Have you any idea where I could find him? ” 

“ Oh, don’t arst me ! ” he said, disgustedly, 
“ ’e’s gone on to Mentoney, I think, and arter 
that ’e’s off to Monty Carlo, and if ’e doesn’t come 
aboard to-night we’ve got to up sail and go to 
Marselaisy.” 

“ Oh! you mean Marseilles.” 

No, I don’t mean Ma sails or anybody else 
sails but us, and we sails for Marselaisy.” 

“ Where’s the captain? ” 

“ With the crew.” 

“ And where’s the crew? ” 

‘‘ With the captain.” 

“Well, where’s that?” 

“ Where I oughter be, in some pub or other.” 

“ When do you sail? ” 

“ Full tide.” 

“ What time is that? ” 

“ ’Anged if I know. I dropped my watch 
overboard this morning.” 


I SEEK MY FATHER 


245 


“ How did you do that? ” 

“ Leaning over the gunnell looking for me 
pipe.’’ 

“ Looking for your pipe? ” 

“ Yes, I dropped it overboard trying to get me 
cap.” 

‘‘ Where was your cap? ” 

In the water o’ course, where it had fell.” 

“ Suppose I was to go ashore and come back 
with a bottle of wine for you,” I asked. “ What 
would you say? ” 

“ I’d sooner ’ave beer.” 

“ Well, beer then.” 

“ Why, then I’d say thank yer and may you 
learn all yer want.” 

“ Right you are ! ” I said, and left him, to come 
back a little later with a couple of bottles of 
Bass. 

I hung about the quay all the evening watching 
the yacht, and I saw the captain go aboard and 
the crew with him, and when they judged the tide 
was full they unfurled all their gear and sailed 
like a ghost into the night. 

Then because I was become a very wily hunter 
I got aboard the train and was in Marseilles hours 
before he could ever hope to reach it, and waited 
his arrival. 

I kept my vigil, eating out my heart in my im- 
patience, for two long dreary weeks; but I never 


246 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

saw the snow white yacht, neither could I learn 
the slightest breath of news of her nor of her 
whereabouts. I’ve often wondered since whether 
I was seen that day in Genoa, or whether the cook 
was there to watch for such an inconvenient visi- 
tor as myself, and if Sir Edward Lorrilow was 
down below while his watch dog dallied with me, 
or if he came aboard when the crew did, or how 
it was he avoided me so cleverly. But that he 
did avoid me there is not the slightest doubt, and 
I learnt to my sorrow that too much haste is often- 
times as fatal as not enough. 

About this time reading of the death of old 
Lady Lorrilow as the result of her injuries, I con- 
cluded that he would now condescend to honour 
England with his presence, so packing up my traps 
with much of disappointment at my ill success I 
set out for Paris and Calais. 

I stayed in Paris for a day or two to learn the 
fate of my picture for the Salon, and finding all 
things going right I betook me to the Gare du 
Nord, and there, of all the people in the world, I 
found Bardilow. 

He told me he’d been called to P^ris for a con- 
sultation on a member of the Academie who had 
a tumour, or an abscess or something, I forget 
exactly where, my mind being too full of my own 
affairs just then to grasp the details, and that he 
had advised postponement of an operation until 


I SEEK MY FATHER 


247 

the thing was ripe, which would be in two or three 
weeks or perhaps a month. 

Noticing I was very low spirited when we ar- 
rived in London, he proposed that we go to one 
or other of his clubs and make a night of it. So, 
nothing loth, I accepted his proposal and went 
into Pall Mall to the Royal Automobile Club of 
which he was a member, and we had a little supper 
which very much refreshed me. But finding noth- 
ing there to sufficiently distract my thoughts he 
asked me if I’d like a new sensation, so we walked 
across to Leicester Square, and entering a harm- 
less looking shop we descended to the bowels of 
the earth and I found myself within a night club. 

I protested at first that this was not the kind 
of new sensation I was particularly keen about, 
but he laughed and said he only came for a little 
flutter. He explained that he had to get excite- 
ment somehow for his nature demanded it, and 
if at any time he wasn’t to be found when wanted 
the odds were ten to one I’d find him here, and 
such a place as this ought to be particularly inter- 
esting to an artist because of the people and their 
untrammelled Bohemianism. 

The Bohemian spirit of this place seemed to 
consist in shaded lights, and women and little gam- 
ing tables and a piano, and people who drank a 
lot and supped, or whatever name the best befits 
a meal partaken of ’twixt midnight and the morn ; 


248 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

and they danced upon a square of polished floor 
while the hungry looking man at the piano worked 
as I have never seen an artist work before or 
since, with the sweat running down his neck and 
crumpling his collar, and a glass of beer upon the 
top of the instrument which was constantly re- 
plenished. 

A woman stood upon the dancing square and 
sang “ Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep,” a 
woman with a face like Destiny, so grim was it 
and so inscrutable, and her voice was the richest 
bass I’ve ever heard. This was the only sharp 
and clear impression that I brought away with 
me. 

Bardilow settled himself at a table and played 
Chemin de fer, and I watched him win, then lose, 
then win again, and got as unhealthily excited as 
he did over it, until four o’clock, when we found 
a bed at an unpretentious hotel off the Strand. 


CHAPTER XIII 


AN UNLUCKY BIRTHDAY GIFT 

It was at this time that I altered my opinion of 
Flora Graham and began to discover qualities 
in her that I had never before suspected; for 
whereas I had grown to look upon her as a schem- 
ing, plotting mass of insincerity, I now began to 
recognise that this were merely affectation, and 
that underneath a most unpromising exterior there 
dwelt a heart that was warm with genuine concern 
for my well being and for that of Princess Ida. 

While I’d been away she’d made herself so use- 
ful to my sweet princess, and was such a kind and 
thoughtful companion that she had found her al- 
most indispensable. She had taught her embroid- 
ery and showed her how to work designs in silk 
and lace and ribbon, and talked of books to her. 
Moreover she took a vivid interest in our love 
and did all she could to foster it. 

When the time drew near for my little lady’s 
birthday. Flora Graham asked me what I would 
like to give her for a present. We talked the 
matter over confidentially and could come to no 
conclusion, until she suggested that as now she 
had a studio in Kensington, nothing could be more 
249 


250 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

appropriate than that I should allow her to paint 
a miniature of myself which I could frame within 
a jewel studded oval and present to Margery on 
the great day. And we agreed to keep the matter 
a dread and awful secret between ourselves until 
it was finished. 

The upshot of it was I spent less time with 
Princess Ida and more with Flora Graham, and 
though my little lady tried to worm my secret from 
me I kept strictly to our compact and would tell 
her nothing. However she soon knew I went to 
Flora Graham’s, in that remarkable way that 
women have of learning things, and she taxed me 
with it. 

Embarrassed by the accusation I blushed and 
stammered and told her she must trust me. She 
grew a little angry and then grew cold, and said 
I took a little bit too much on trust; and when I 
tried to smooth it down by asking her to come 
and have an evening at a theatre, she very haught- 
ily declined as she was engaged with her cousin 
for that evening. 

About this time I heard that Sir Edward and 
Lady Lorrilow were in town and I started off 
again upon his track, the miniature and everything 
else obscured by this great news. I found that 
it was impossible to discover where he was stay- 
ing, so I used to go out o’ mornings and roam 


AN UNLUCKY BIRTHDAY GIFT 251 

around the clubs and in the park, searching for 
him, and once I saw my little lady riding with her 
cousin in the Row, and bowed to her and glared 
at him, and, though I am as certain as I can be that 
she saw me, yet she kept her smiling eyes on him 
and passed me by. 

Later in the day I remonstrated with her upon 
her fickleness, and she retorted that if I chose to 
spend my time with Flora Graham, surely she had 
as much right to choose her own companions, that 
I was only her brother by my own express desire 
and she considered it somewhat autocratic even 
of a brother to be angry with his sister because 
she liked her cousin’s escort. 

Recognising the fact that she had got me in a 
vice, and wriggle as I would I could not escape, 
I protested hotly that I hadn’t seen Flora Graham 
for days and didn’t want to, at which she gave me 
a look which so exasperated me that I nearly 
blurted out the truth. 

“ Very well,” I said, “ when you know the truth 
you’ll be sorry that you doubted me.” 

“ Perhaps,” she answered, coldly, “ but if the 
truth is harmless why delay the telling of it? ” 

“ Because I must,” I replied; “ it’s a secret and 
I promised that I wouldn’t tell.” 

“Then there is a secret between you?” she 
asked me, sweetly. 


252 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 


“ Yes, my dear.” 

“ That you mustn’t tell me? ” 

“ Yes.” 

At which she held her head up haughtily and, 
giving me a look that froze my blood, left me to 
my thoughts. 

‘‘ My sweet Princess I ” I cried. 

I heard her steps hasten on the stairs and her 
door slam to above, so putting on my hat I took 
the bus to Kensington, bent on seeing Flora Gra- 
ham and telling her that I had altered my mind 
about the miniature, and would give my little lady 
something that cost a little less of heartache. 

“ Miss Graham,” I said, when I had got within 
the studio, “ I’m sorry, but I’ve had enough of 
this.” 

“Enough of what, Jim?” she asked, looking 
at me from the corners of her soulful eyes. 

“ Of the miniature,” I answered, bluntly. 
“ I’m sorry but it’s got to stop. I can’t compose 
myself sufficiently for sittings. Besides now I 
don’t think I shall have the time.” 

“ But it’s nearly finished, Jim,” she protested. 

“ I can’t help that,” I replied. “ I must think 
of something else to give her.” 

She studied me a bit before she answered, and 
her breath came rather fast the while her eyes 
shone somewhat more brightly than usual. 

“ I’m sorry you’ve altered your mind, Jim, now 


AN UNLUCKY BIRTHDAY GIFT 253 

it’s so nearly finished too — and she would be 
pleased to get it, wouldn’t she? She’d value it a 
thousand times more than anything else.” 

“ I suppose she would,” I sighed. 

Well, make an effort and come as often as you 
can, then.” 

“ No,” I said, decidedly, “ I’m done with it.” 

“ But look here, Jim,” she cried. “ I can finish 
it without you.” 

“ Can you really? ” I asked her, eagerly. 

“ Surely,” she replied, “ if you will let me have 
a little of your hair and a photograph.” 

“ All right,” I answered, “ take a bit of hair by 
all means but I’m afraid I haven’t got a photo- 
graph.” 

“ You must get one taken,” she declared. 

I bent down before her while she cut a lock off 
the top of my head where it wouldn’t show, and 
it was arranged that I should have my photo- 
graph taken at once, purchase a suitable frame, 
write a letter to accompany the gift, and she would 
post it for me so that my love would get it by first 
delivery upon her natal day. 

As I was leaving the photographer’s I ran full 
tilt into Bardilow. 

“ FIullo, old chap,” he said, “ had your photo 
taken?” 

“ Yes,” I answered before I knew what I was 
saying. 


254 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

So then I told him all about it and he promised 
to help me and said he knew where he could get 
a frame that was just the thing, a narrow gold one 
studded with forget-me-nots in turquoise. 

After that I renewed my vain attempts to find 
Sir Edward Lorrilow, and every evening I re- 
mained indoors, looking miserable and lonely, ex- 
cept when Flora Graham came when I would do 
my best to be civil. 

At first my sweet Princess was coldly indifferent, 
but after many such exhibitions of my repentance 
she began to thaw and her trust in me revived, and 
she even consented to play bezique with me, and 
once I even took her to a concert. 

One day I received a note from Flora Graham 
telling me how much the Art School thought of me, 
how proud they were that I had had my early 
training there, and that it was the master’s wish to 
give a soiree and invite the local celebrities to meet 
me, and they hoped I would send a work or two 
and come myself and bring my sweet Princess. I 
had a deep abomination for such things but as 
Margery wanted to go I wrote accepting the in- 
vitation. 

At that time the birthday was but six days off 
and the frame in Flora’s hands. I invented a 
greeting and in order that it might go within the 
case I took a piece of card which I cut to a square 
shape and wrote the greeting on it. 


AN UNLUCKY BIRTHDAY GIFT 255 





Flora Graham had suggested this. She was 
full of subtle artifice and quaint conceits. 

The next day Alec came rushing to me. He had 
heard that the Lorrilows were living at Raven- 
hurst I I started at once and before many hours 
had passed over my head I was back once more 
within the village that had given me birth, and 
from which I had been cast abroad in what now 
appeared to me another life. 


CHAPTER XIV 

I TAKE UP THE SCENT AGAIN 

Soon I was at the iron gates and George Pond not 
being about I strode along the drive unchallenged, 
until in course of time I stood beneath the portico. 

“ Is Sir Edward Lorrilow in? ” I asked the foot- 
man. 

“ ril see, sir,” he replied, ushering me inside. 
“ What name shall I say? ” 

“ Redcar,” I answered. “ James Redcar. I 
am sorry I have not a card.” 

“ Is he expecting you, sir? ” he asked politely. 

‘‘ I have no doubt he will see me when he hears 
my name,” I answered, ambiguously. 

I was hoping he might think it was the doctor 
come to see him. 

Presently the footman came back again, observ- 
ing me most curiously and as I thought, with not a 
little rudeness. 

“ What name did you say, sir? ” 

Redcar,” I answered crossly. “ Is he in? ” 

“ I’ll see, sir,” he replied, and vanished once 
again. 

The next time he came back he looked more res- 
olute. 

256 


I TAKE UP THE SCENT AGAIN 257 

“ Pm sorry, sir,” he said, edging me towards the 
door. “ Sir Edward is not at home.” 

“How dare you push me?” I demanded, en- 
raged by the subterfuge. “ Tell Sir Edward Lor- 
rilow I must see him at once.” 

“ He’s not in, sir,” he replied, anxiously, holding 
wide the door. 

Then I lost my temper and blazed at him. 

“You liar!” I cried hotly, “he is in! You 
know he’s in! ” 

He bowed extremely low, and before I knew 
what he was about he caught me round the waist 
and swung me out upon the stones outside, and 
before I could regain my feet he had slammed the 
door behind me. 

Arising in a frantic rage I hammered on the 
door with my fists and with my cane. I wrung the 
knocker nearly off its hinge and pulled the bell till 
peal after peal rang out in the hall. Then when 
my paroxysm had subsided I turned about and 
hanging my head in simulated chagrin walked 
moodily and slowly down the drive. 

Arrived at the lodge I peered about to see if 
George were there and finding he was still away I 
scrambled through the shrubbery and keeping close 
within its shade went cautiously up the kitchen gar- 
den. 

A clump of rhododendrons skirted the path that 
led out into the woods, so into them I crawled 


258 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

hoping that before the day was done my father 
might come this way because I felt sure that he 
would not venture on the road fearing I might be 
lying in wait for him; and sure enough before I’d 
been there more than an hour and a half I heard 
the sound of footsteps coming along the gravel, 
and peering through the leaves I saw the man for 
whom I had hunted Europe. 

My heart leaped up with joy on seeing him and 
pumped the blood into my throbbing temples. I 
clenched my teeth and picking up my cane stepped 
slowly out before him. 

“ Sir Edward Lorrilow,” I said, with flashing 
eyes, “ I want a word with you.” 

He started back as if he saw a ghost, the colour 
left his face and he stood trembling for an instant, 
then rapidly recovering his composure he frowned 
on me. 

“ Do you know you’re trespassing, my man? ” 
he demanded. 

“ Can a man trespass in his father’s park? ” I 
inquired. 

He glared at me, his hand twitching nervously 
on his stick, while I, with my lips grimly set, looked 
straight ahead. 

“ Come,” I commanded, “ I’m here to settle 
once for all the question of our relationship.” 

“ Get off my land ! ” he ordered. 

I smiled my defiance at him. 


I TAKE UP THE SCENT AGAIN 259 

I don’t leave these grounds,” I said, slowly 
and distinctly, “ until you have put me right before 
the world or I have put you out of it. I’m not 
going to ask if you are my father because I know 
you are,” and I went up very close to him, “ but 
you are going to tell me before I leave exactly what 
that title means.” 

He pushed me from him with so much force 
that I staggered and nearly fell. 

“ I’ve nothing to say to a blackmailer. Get off 
my land I ” 

You blackguard I ” I stormed, advancing again 
upon him, my blood aboil at his insult; “ you black- 
guard! You hound! You dare to call me such 
a thing as that ! I’ll thrash you as you stand, you 
sneak ! ” 

I rushed upon him with my cane upraised. 

He parried it, then stung to fury at my words, 
aimed an answering blow at me; but clutching at 
his stick I caught it while he struggled hard to 
wrench it free and heaped abominations on my 
head. 

“ Get out ! ” he roared, “ or I’ll give you in 
charge, you — ” 

He used a word I won’t befoul my pen by writ- 
ing here, suffice it that it told me what I was; 
brutally and poignantly it stabbed me to the soul 
so that I gasped in horror as its foul and vicious 
meaning flooded my understanding. The path 


26 o JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

before me turned a vivid red, the rhododendrons 
and the grass, the trees, the man before me, every- 
thing was scarlet. 

Snarling like a savage beast, I flung myself upon 
him, and loosing my hold upon his stick I clutched 
him by the collar and beat him on the head and 
face and shoulders with my cane, using the heavy 
end, while he strove to free himself and strike 
me in return. Savagely I thrashed him, bruising 
him and drawing blood unmercifully, until of a 
sudden my cane snapped short off leaving but a 
foot or so within my hand; and quick as light he 
caught my wrist and spinning me about flung me 
from him so that I hurtled against an elm, smash- 
ing my shoulder with sickening force while the 
park swam round in the intensity of my pain as I 
lay there moaning. 

He came and stood above me, looking down on 
me with baleful eyes and swollen cheeks and cut 
and bleeding mouth. 

‘‘ This means prison for you, my boy,” he 
panted. 

The gleaming of his eyes brought back to me 
the memory of other eyes that had gleamed at 
me from out the bracken in the woods beyond 
the fence one Tuesday afternoon, and a sudden 
thought occurred to me so sharp and unexpected 
that, mastering my vertigo, I raised myself upon 
my elbow and answered him, defiantly. 


I TAKE UP THE SCENT AGAIN 261 


“ Not while Beppo knows.” 

He reeled from me his broken face gone blue 
and white, his swollen lips apart and eyes wide 
with fear. Forgetting my pain in my astonish- 
ment I tried to point at him to punctuate my 
words, then a cry of agony escaped me and I 
fainted dead away. 

When I awoke I was out beyond the gates of 
Ravenhurst, lying in the bracken where I first had 
fallen over Beppo. I was very sick and sore and 
stiff, my shoulder throbbed and my left hand was 
swollen to nearly twice its normal size, while my 
arm hung limply to my side as if its bones were 
broken and its flesh a mass of pulp. 

But I was thankful. I knew that I had hurt 
him both in body and in spirit. 

I didn’t even wonder how I’d got here for I 
knew that he had had me carried out because he 
was afraid. I knew he wouldn’t dare to show his 
face abroad for days because of the cuts and 
bruises I had given him, and I knew that I was 
master of him and that he had lied when he had 
called me what he did, because his blood had 
turned to water at the mention of the name of 
Beppo. 

So very carefully and painfully I stood upright, 
and seeking out the station sat in the refreshment 


262 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

room reviving my shattered nerves with brandy 
while I waited for the train. 

They had to wake me at the Junction and again 
at Waterloo, and when the cab drew up at the 
doctor’s house I had to wait outside while the 
cabman went and fetched assistance. 

The doctor came out hotfoot with Princess Ida 
at his heels looking full of sweet concern, and to- 
gether they helped me up the steps and into the 
drawing room. 

“ Treat me tenderly,” I said, as they set to work 
to get my coat and waistcoat off. ‘‘ I’m very 
nearly dead, but I’m also very nearly happy.” 

“Ye don’t say that,” cried the doctor, exulting. 
“ Did he acknowledge ye then? Tell me that? ” 

“ Not exactly,” I answered, “ but he wouldn’t 
give me in charge.” 

“Wouldn’t give you in charge, Jimmy?” 
gasped Princess Ida. “ I should think not, in- 
deed. Why should he?” 

“ For trespassing and breaking in, and assault 
and battery, and committing murder with intent to 
do grievous bodily harm,” I answered, smiling up 
into her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” she inquired. 

“ It isn’t my fault he’s alive,” I answered. “ I 
did my best. Steady, Guv’norl Oh! ” 

When the dear old doctor had gone over me, 
and felt and prodded and pounded me gently, he 


I TAKE UP THE SCENT AGAIN 263 

declared there was nothing amiss beyond the fact 
that my shoulder had slipped its moorings, and 
cautioning me to brace myself, he brought his 
mighty strength to bear upon it so that it shot back 
into its socket with a loud report. The lights 
danced for just an instant, till my little lady’s 
soothing voice besought me to sip a little brandy 
after which the doctor bound my shoulder for me, 
and when everything was nice and comfortable 
they led me straight to bed. 


CHAPTER XV 


I LOSE MY LITTLE BIT OF RIBBON 

I TOLD the doctor everything and my little lady 
just as much as I thought she ought to know. 
Our efforts to trace the whereabouts of Beppo 
and old Bill Blay were renewed and in a couple of 
days I was up and about again. Then came the 
day appointed for my ordeal at the Art School, 
and though my little lady begged me not to go, I 
went, because I had arranged with Flora Graham 
that she should bring the miniature and let me 
have a last look at it before she sent it off. 

It was quite a brilliant reception and I found 
myself the centre of a little group consisting of 
the Art School master, Flora Graham, the doc- 
tor, my little lady, members of the school com- 
mittee, a royal duchess, and the mayor, and re- 
ceived congratulations galore. 

Flora Graham took me underneath her wing and 
showed me off as if I belonged to her, while Prin- 
cess Ida watched the whole affair with a disap- 
proving eye. 

Flora introduced me to her father, a thin spare 
man, every inch a lawyer. 

“ This is my Jimmy, Dad,” she said. 

264 


I LOSE MY BIT OF RIBBON 265 

“ I’m verra pleased to meet you, Mister Red- 
car,” he rejoined, taking my hand and shaking it 
with much warmth. “ I’ve heard an awfu’ lot 
about you from my dochter here.” 

I never knew Flora Graham so charming and 
attentive as she was that night, in fact her sweet- 
ness cloyed and I tried to get rid of her, but she 
linked her arm in mine and kept beside me look- 
ing supremely happy and triumphant, and I really 
think she must have invited all her friends and re- 
lations, so many of them were there. 

Bardilow had been invited, but of course he 
didn’t come. However, when the evening was 
about half way through a telegram was brought 
to me which opening I found to be from him. 


“ Hearty condolences, 
be over, old chap! 


May your ordeal soon 
“ BARDILOW.” 


I took it across to show to my sweet Princess, 
but though she smiled languidly she wasn’t deeply 
interested. It seemed to cause her much effort to 
show a spark of interest in anything that night. 
She seemed lost and deeply introspective and 
watched me always with a look I could in no wise 
fathom, and was almost rude to Flora Graham. 
I asked her anxiously if she thought the place too 
warm for her, and would she like to go home 


266 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

when her father went, as he was going early. 
Immediately she bridled up and declared she would 
not go till I did, and begged me very sweetly to 
go back to Flora Graham. 

I was consigning Flora Graham and the soiree 
and all her works to regions that I thought more 
fitting, when here came Flora herself. 

“ Don’t you want to see the miniature, Jim? ” 
she whispered. 

“ Of course I do,” I whispered back. “ Where 
is it?” 

“ I’ve got it in the office,” she replied, and get- 
ting up she beckoned me to follow. 

I told my little lady I’d be back very soon, a 
remark which she didn’t deign to answer, and I 
followed in Flora’s wake. Half way across the 
room Flora turned about and linked her arm in 
mine and so we wormed our way down the stairs ; 
and though I didn’t see them I could feel my 
Princess Ida’s eyes were on me all the time, burn- 
ing through my back and searching out my heart. 

And I smiled to think how overjoyed she’d be 
when our secret was divulged to her. 

Arrived within the office Flora closed the door 
and stood before me with shining eyes, her breath 
coming very fast and a hectic flush on either cheek. 

“ Where is it. Miss Graham? ” I asked. 

“ I’ve got it safe,” she answered, breathlessly, 
looking towards the inner room, then taking the 


I LOSE MY BIT OF RIBBON 267 

lapels of my coat within her hands she asked me 
a sudden question. 

“ What do you think of it, Jimmy? ” 

“ Think of what? ” I answered, wondering. 

“ Why, everything,” she answered. “ The 
soiree, me? ” 

“ Oh,” said I, “ it’s wonderfully kind of you to 
think about it and go to all this trouble.” 

She cast her head down at this and lifted up 
her eyes. 

“ Is that the only thanks you’ve got to offer 
me? ” she asked, a little hurt. 

“ Why, what else can I offer? ” I replied. 

“ What else can you offer? ” she demanded pas- 
sionately. “ What do you suppose I went to all 
this trouble for? Why do you think I’ve done 
all this for you? Oh, Jimmy, you blind fool! 
Can’t you see how I love you ? Can’t you see I’ve 
loved you from the start? ” 

I staggered back, aghast at the girl’s boldness 
and effrontery, while she stood by with arms held 
out and head upon one side, measuring me up with 
a smile of certain triumph on her lips. 

“ Where’s the miniature? ” I demanded, thickly. 

Her smile broadened, and putting her fingers 
on a blue ribbon that fell from her neck into the 
lace within her bosom, she fingered it, lovingly. 

“ I’ll always wear it upon my heart, my love,” 
she answered. 


268 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Miss Graham,” I pretested, conquering my 
amazement, “ this isn’t playing the game. Let’s 
have it and stop this fooling. You don’t mean it, 
you know.” 

“ Jim,” she said, looking very coy, “ you can 
have it on one condition.” 

“ Well, what is that? ” I asked, relieved. 

“ Come and kiss me for it.” 

I recoiled again on hearing this, then falling 
back upon my native cunning decided to humour 
her. If I pretend to fall in with her, thought L 
I can get close enough to snatch the ribbon and so 
regain my locket and ever after keep it safe from 
such a scheming guardian. 

“ All right, if that’s the penalty I’ll pay it,” I 
said, firmly. 

She came upon me in a great rush, and throwing 
her arms about my neck clung to me in a passionate 
embrace. 

“ Oh, Jiml ” she said, “ of course I will! ” 

I was startled at her words, but more astounded 
still to see Miss Purvis looking out upon us from 
the inner room. I struggled desperately to free 
myself from this clinging gorgon, and in doing 
so my shoulder got a wrench which sent a tongue 
of living flame down my arm, and shouting in my 
agony I toppled over where I stood and everything 
went black. 

My eyes opened on Princess Ida kneeling down 


I LOSE MY BIT OF RIBBON 269 

before me. My collar was gone, my shirt un- 
buttoned and my face and hair were dripping wet. 
My head lay back upon a downy couch so soft and 
warm that it slowly dawned on me that I was 
lying on the floor with my head supported by the 
treacherous bosom of Flora Graham. Recalling 
in a flash how it was I came to such a pass I stag- 
gered to my feet, and declining all offers of as- 
sistance begged my sweet Princess to get her things 
on as I was going home at once. 

So presently it came to pass that we two were 
seated in a comfortable carriage bound for home. 
I was feeling very sick and faint and my shoulder 
pained me so much that I closed my eyes and slept 
throughout the journey. When I prepared my- 
self for bed I discovered to my horror that my 
little bag of oil silk was open and the ribbon 
gone ! 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 

The first thing I did the next day was to write 
a curt and bitter note to Flora Graham. 

“ Miss Graham, please give bearer my minia- 
ture, the photograph and all things else you have 
of mine, for that page in my life is blotted out 
for good. What a fool I was to trust my happi- 
ness to you! 

“ James Redcar.” 

Then I wandered restlessly about the house 
looking and longing for my sweet Princess. I 
sent a message to her room but she wasn’t up. I 
sent another asking when she would be up. She 
didn’t know, she wasn’t very well. What was 
the matter with her? She had a headache. 
Would she be down for lunch? She couldn’t say. 
She wished I wouldn’t bother her as she was rest- 
ing. 

I bit my lip and fumed and fussed and scowled 
and worked my hands. 

I longed for some companionship, for some one 
who would share my woe and ease my over-bur- 

270 


CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 271 

dened heart. The doctor was engaged upon his 
patients in the consulting room so he was out of 
the question. I couldn’t ’phone to Bardilow be- 
cause the doctor was using the ’phone, and it was 
more than my life was worth to disconnect 
him. I daren’t go to Alec because of Flora Gra- 
ham. 

So I sent another message to my sweet Prin- 
cess, a written one this time. 

“ It is most imperative that I see you as soon 
as you are able.” 

She returned it to me with her answer scrawled 
across the face. 

“I fail to see the necessity.” 

After a while my messenger returned from 
Flora Graham bringing nothing with him. 

“ Didn’t they give you a package? ” I asked. 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Who took in the letter? ” 

“ A young lady, sir.” 

“ What sort of a young lady? ” 

He grinned. 

“Oh — a fair un, sir, wiv floppy ’air.” 

“ What did she say when you gave her the 
letter?” 

“ No answer, sir.” 

“ No answer? ” 


272 


JIM -^UNCLASSIFIED 

‘‘ No, sir.” 

I gave him a shilling and let him go. What 
was the meaning of this? What was her game? 
Did she intend to send it after all or what did she 
mean to do? Finding no answer to any of my 
questions I flew into a rage about the miniature 
and everything connected with it. Even if she 
sent it, I swore I wouldn’t let my little lady have 
it. Nothing in any way connected with Flora 
Graham should ever be in her possession. I was 
done with her after last night. My sweet Prin- 
cess thought me false and fickle and a flirt, all be- 
cause of that infernal secret. 

Well, it would be a secret no longer, for I’d 
get the picture back at any cost, but that of seeing 
her, and having got it back would burn it and put 
another in its frame, one by a photographer this 
time. Also I should give my little lady a new 
present. 

So off I went down Oxford Street, and after 
spending hours looking in the shops finally dis- 
covered something to my taste in Piccadilly, a 
butterfly brooch in brilliants with sapphire eyes. 
I bought it just because those eyes reminded me 
of hers in certain moods, and there was a poetic 
fitness in the butterfly reminding her of me. 

When I got back I met her in the hall just go- 
ing out, and she looked drawn and ill and very 
haughty, and would have passed me by but that 


CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 273 

I laid my hand upon her arm and leading her 
into the drawing room sat her on a chair. 

“ Now,” I said, “ you’re not going out like that.” 

“ I’m going out exactly as I please,” she an- 
swered, icily. 

“ My Princess Ida.” 

“ Don’t you dare to call me Princess Ida any 
more,” she flashed. 

“Not call you Princess Ida? Why — ” 

“ I told you once that only those who loved me 
called me that.” 

“ But, my sweet, I love you more than all the 
world.” 

She looked me up and down with bitter scorn. 

“ Show me my ribbon,” she demanded. 

And then when I paled she demanded it of me 
again. 

“ If you love me, where’s my ribbon? ” 

I stammered foolishly that I had lost it. 

“Lost it?” she cried. “Have you been un- 
fortunate enough to lose it? But, perhaps, you 
forgot that you ever owned it. Such a little thing 
as that was much too insignificant for your mind. 
I should ask your hostess of last night about it. 
I’ve no doubt she could tell you where it is. She 
might even be able to recall where and when she 
burnt it — that is, if it’s not too insignificant for 
either of you to remember.” 

The words I’d used at Christmas came back 


274 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

to my mind and danced before my eyes in letters 
of living fire. 

“ When that is no longer there you’ll know that 
I have ceased to love you.” 

“ My dear,” I said, beseechingly, “ I can ex- 
plain.” 

“ Oh, I shouldn’t bother,” she responded, 
cruelly, getting up and going to the door. 

How I spent the rest of the day I don’t know, 
except that I went into a restaurant somewhere 
in Soho for lunch and ordered every dish upon the 
menu and sent it back again untasted. And then 
I went out and roamed about and wandered here 
and there and everywhere; but never could I es- 
cape the misery that haunted me. 

I thought about my little lady and the way that 
she had spoken to me. I recalled how she had 
avoided me all morning, and how she had snubbed 
me and lashed me when we met. I thought how 
shallow and superficial women must be that she 
could think so low of me, and then I thought how 
deep they were when Flora Graham’s plot came 
to my mind. I cursed the day that I’d been born. 

But try as I would I couldn’t unravel the mys- 
tery of my bit of ribbon. If Flora had purloined 
it, where was it? 

That evening the doctor was very short with 
me and often I caught him looking at me as if 
weighing me up; and, when I asked where Prin- 


CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 275 

cess Ida was, he told me with much abruptness 
she was out of sorts and had gone early to bed. 

And the next day finding that she still kept her 
room and wouldn’t condescend to answer my anx- 
ious enquiries concerning her health, I felt un- 
justly treated and wandered about consumed with 
bitterness. 

I went into the Park and burned and shivered 
under the trees, and meandered there till the after- 
noon when I had a very scanty meal at a restau- 
rant in Soho, and stayed there thinking, thinking, 
thinking, till late into the evening, when, feeling 
very sick and out of heart, I turned my steps to- 
wards home again. 

As I opened the door of the doctor’s house 
the boy in buttons told me that the doctor had 
been asking for me for nearly half an hour, and 
that he was very anxious I should go up to the 
study just as soon as I came home, and that Miss 
Redcar was ill. 

So up to the Holy of Holies went I, and there 
was the doctor and Flora Graham’s father, also, 
and the doctor was looking very pained and stern 
and Mister Graham didn’t offer me his hand. 

“This is a bad business, young man,” began 
the doctor. 

“What is?” I enquired shortly, nettled at his 
tone. 

“ That is, that’s what is, sir,” fiercely broke in 


276 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

Mister Graham, handing me the letter I had sent 
demanding the return of my miniature. 

“ Well, what of it? ” I asked when I had looked 
it through. “ Have you brought the things with 
you? ” 

At which they blazed at me together, Irish 
brogue and Scottish accent battling to be heard 
above the other. 

“ Come out o’ that, young man,” demanded 
Doctor Redcar, “ this is not a matter to be treated 
flippantly, let me tell ye that.” 

“ All right, all right,” I said, sitting in a chair 
and looking from one to the oth^r for a little 
light, “ if there’s anything to row about why bring 
it out and let’s have it, only don’t get so excited 
over it.” 

On hearing which they looked one at the other 
meaningly, and whispered together for a moment. 
Then Mister Graham in his best cross examina- 
tion manner took up the foil and engaged me. 

“ Did you write this letter to my dochter ! ” he 
asked, holding it out for me to see. 

“ Of course I did. What about it? ” 

“ Don’t give me any impertinence, sir. An- 
swer me yes or no.” 

“ If you’ll tell me what you’re driving at I’ll 
consider whether you’ve the right to ask,” I an- 
swered, with not a little heat. 


CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 277 

“ Come, come, me bye,’’ broke in the doctor, 
“ this is a very serious matter and ye’ll do me a 
faavour if ye’ll just answer Mister Graham here 
truthfully, without any high falutin back talk, let 
me tell ye that.” 

“Is it your wish that I should submit to his in- 
solence, sir? ” I asked. 

“ It is my wish that you answer his questions, 
James.” 

“ Very good, sir, as you wish it,” I replied, then 
to Mister Graham, “ Fire away,” I said. 

“ Did you write this letter? ” again commenced 
counsel for the prosecution. 

“ Yes.” 

“ And did you send it to my dochter ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Did you expect a reply? ” 

“ I did.” 

“ And what reply did you expect? ” 

“ I expected her to return my miniature and — 
and the other things.” 

“ What other things? ” 

“ Why, the photograph and the locket, and my 
lock of hair and the ribbon she stole.” 

“ What photograph? ” 

“ The one I gave her to paint the miniature 
from.” 

“ Oh, you gave it to her to paint the miniature 


278 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

from, did you? Did you ever call on her at her 
Studio?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ More than once? ” 

“ Many a time.” 

“ Had you any object in calling on her? ” 

“ Of course I had.” 

“ What was it?” 

“ Why, so that she might paint the miniature.” 

“ And what was the lock of hair for? ” he asked, 
sarcastically. 

“ For her to get the colour from,” I answered. 

“ Now, sir,” he demanded, standing up, “ if 
you were going to the Studio to be painted, will 
you be so good as to tell me what necessity there 
was to give her the lock of hair at all? ” 

“ I have said to get the colour from.” 

“ But you were going there yourself.” 

“ Yes, at the start, but then I found I couldn’t 
come, she asked me for the hair to finish it with.” 

“ And what was the object in giving her the 
photograph, if you were going there yourself?” 

“ For the same reason, because she asked me 
for it as I found the sittings a nuisance.” 

“ Was the miniature in a frame? ” 

“ Not when I saw it.” 

“ Was there a frame? ” 

“ Yes, I sent her one.” 


CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 279 

“ Oh, you sent her one. Now, tell me, is it 
usual for a sitter when he has his portrait painted 
to leave it behind in a gold frame studded with 
forget-me-nots, with a lock of hair enclosed in 
the back and a loving inscription behind the hair ? ” 

I stammered that I didn’t understand. 

“ Answer my question, please,” he commanded, 
sternly. “ Is it usual? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Is it usual when you give an artist a photo- 
graph to work from, to enclose the picture in a 
silver frame and stick a loving inscription on the 
back?” 

“What are you talking about, sir?” I ex- 
ploded. 

“ Answer, Jim, answer,” broke in the doctor. 

“ Very well, as you wish it, but under protest,” 
I replied. “ It is not.” 

Then the man of law smiled very grimly and 
held my locket out that I might see. 

“ Is that your miniature? ” he asked. 

“ It is.” 

“ Is that your frame? ” 

“ It is.” 

Then turning it about he showed me the glass 
back with my hair curled round inside it. 

“ Is that your hair? ” 

“ Yes, it is, but I don’t understand — ” 


280 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Never mind about understanding,” he 
interrupted, brusquely, as he opened the locket. 

Is that your writing? ” 

He showed me the inscription I had written on 
the card, or part of it that is, the top part cut out 
to fit inside the frame, and I read to my horror — 

Flora — Jim 
the secret 
nobly kept 

“ Good God ! ” I exclaimed, “ the little devil ! ” 

“ Come, come, sir ! ” thundered my examiner, 
“ answer my question. Is that your Writing? ” 

“ Yes, it is,” I replied, my breath coming very 
fast, “ but I never wrote ‘ Flora,’ I wrote 
‘ from.’ ” 

But he waived aside my explanation and held 
out to me the photograph. 

“ Is that your photograph? ” he asked. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Did you have it specially taken for her? ” 

“ I did.” 

“ Is that your frame ? ” 

“ No, it is not.” 

“ Oh, it is not your frame ! ” he repeated in 
much surprise. 

Turning it about I saw the other part of the 
card, the whole of which should have gone to 


CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 281 


Ida yesterday, pasted on the back, “ wishing my 
little lady a very happy birthday.” 

“ Is that your writing? ” 

“ Yes, it is,” I answered, shortly, squaring my 
jaw and glaring at him. 

“ Then will you kindly explain your intentions 
towards my dochter ? ” 

“ With pleasure,” I replied. 

“ Then what are they, sir? ” 

“ Simply this,” I answered, getting up and 
standing by the desk and glaring at him with eyes 
gone very bright, and with flaming cheeks, “ I 
shall brand your precious daughter as a lying, 
crawling, thieving minx. I shall drive her out 
of Art as she has tried to drive me out of happi- 
ness, and ever after shun her as a leprous beast. 
That is my intention.” 

He clenched his fists at my furious outburst, 
and the doctor scenting trouble came between us, 
commanding me sternly to keep my temper and 
Mister Graham to keep an eye on his. 

“ Was it your intention to marry my dochter? ” 
the Scotchman demanded. 

“ Don’t be a fool,” I retorted. 

“ Was it, or was it not? ” he thundered. 

“ It was not,” I shouted, banging my hand on 
the table. 

“ Then was it your intention just to play with 
her?” 


282 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ That’s a lie,” I answered, quickly. 

“ Stop yer abuse, Jim,” commanded the doc- 
tor, sternly, “ and tell us what yer intention was.” 

“ My intention,” I answered, “ was to give the 
miniature to your daughter. Miss Redcar, as a 
present for her birthday to-day, sir. Miss Gra- 
ham suggested it and like a fool I fell in with her 
suggestion. I went to the Studio a lot of times, 
and then when Princess Ida objected to my going 
— we were keeping it a secret from her, again 
at Miss Graham’s suggestion — I told Miss Gra- 
ham that I couldn’t come any more as I had al- 
tered my mind and would give your daughter 
something else and she needn’t finish the minia- 
ture. Then she pleaded that Princess -Ida would 
be so delighted with it that it was a pity to aban- 
don It, and asked for a lock of hair and a photo- 
graph, and like a fool I gave them to her. I 
sent her the frame and the Inscription for her to 
put Inside the box, and it was all on one card 
which I wrote as she suggested, only I put From 
Jim, not Flora, and she was going to post it. 
That was my intention — that and nothing else — 
as God sees me.” 

“ Oh,” said Mister Graham, “ that was all,, 
was It? Then if you went to see her so many 
times and gave her all these things, how was it 
that after all the miniature was done at a photog- 
rapher’s? ” 


CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 283 

“ Done at a photographer’s? ” I gasped. 

“ Done at a photographer’s,” he replied, “ the 
same photographer’s who took the photograph,” 
and he showed me their signature drawn across the 
bottom. 

“ I am very sorry to say that you have a most 
unscrupulous daughter,” I replied. 

“ If you had no intentions towards her, why 
did you make advances towards her at the soiree 
the other night?” he demanded, mercilessly. 

“ I did no such thing,” I retorted, hotly. “ It’s 
an infamous and a monstrous lie. She took me 
in the office to show me the miniature and when 
we got inside made violent love to me.” 

“ You proposed to her and she accepted you, 
you scoundrel,” he replied, with great indigna- 
tion. 

“That’s a lie—” 

“ Miss Purvis saw and heard it all,” he broke 
in. “ And saw you take her in your arms and 
kiss her.” 

I was silent at this, too stunned and out of 
heart at the vile plot thus unfolded before me to 
make any reply. So this was her game, was it? 
As she couldn’t coax me into matrimony she would 
marry me by force, would she? Or so blacken 
me in Princess Ida’s eyes that she would cast me 
off, or her father turn me out. Well, if he chose 
to believe this tale let him. He ought to know 


284 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

me better and I was much too sick to argue further. 

“ Have you nothing to say to that? he asked 
me after a bit. 

“What’s the use?” I answered, wearily, “an 
honest man doesn’t stand a chance against a law- 
yer.” 

“ Ah, come out of that, Jim I ” broke in the 
doctor. “ Mister Graham here accuses you of 
dallying with his daughter. Did you kiss her or 
did you not? ” 

“Kiss her?” I retorted, viciously, and spat 
into the fireplace. “ Look here,” I said, “ you’ve 
had your turn with me, now give me a chance to 
clear myself. This woman made a set at me from 
the start. She came and lived in Alec’s house to 
keep near me, she pestered me with letters while 
I was in Italy and wrote me every fortnight, but 
I hardly ever answered. She weaved her artful 
nets about me pretending to be so friendly, but 
I always loathed and despised her. Then lately 
she made a great deal of Ida, and thought out 
all this secret about the miniature, and got up her 
hateful soiree all to get me in her net. The 
Lord knows why. What was Miss Purvis doing 
there? I suppose she was there to witness the 
proposal,” I commented, bitterly. 

“ She was there in her professional capacity, 
reporting for the local paper,” replied the lawyer. 

“ H’m,” I sneered. “ I’ve nothing more to 


CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 285 

say, now, but give me a week to collect my wit- 
nesses and you’ll see who is the liar. At present 
it’s her word against mine, and prejudice and evi- 
dence in her favour.” 

“What witnesses?” asked Mister Graham, 
sharply. 

“ Mind your own business,” I replied, “ you’ll 
see them when they’re ready, not before.” 

“ Is that all your answer? ” 

“ It is.” 

“ Very well, then, you’ll hear further from me,” 
and bowing to the doctor he collected his exhibits 
as he called them and departed. 

When he had gone the doctor looked very 
grave and stern. 

“ James, I don’t like it, let me tell ye that. It 
looks very black against you and I’m thinking 
that ye’ll have a job to clear yerself. My poor 
girl’s been miserable for days. I’ve caught her 
crying to herself many a time of late, and she 
doesn’t eat and doesn’t sleep, and if I find that 
you’re the cause of it, why, me bye, ye’ll wish ye’d 
never seen me, let me tell ye that.” 

“Looks black, you think, do you?” I re- 
torted, coldly. “ Well, when it comes to Doctor 
Redcar swallowing every tale that he hears to 
my disadvantage, then I’m done. I’ve nothing 
more to say. I’m ready to admit that it was 
silly — making such a secret of it — but it was 


286 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

only to give Margery a surprise. But as for you, 
sir, you’re a specialist In minds and a sportsman 
and I’ve given you credit for a larger proportion 
of sense than to think me capable of such behav- 
iour. You with your memorandum pad and your 
analysis, to be taken in by all this gaudy circum- 
stantial nonsense, and professing to know me as 
you do. You ought to be ashamed of yourself I ” 

“ James, how dare youl ” he blazed. 

“ I’m content to bide my time,” I continued, 
waving aside his Interruption with curling lip, 
“ and until that is ripe take my advice and when 
in doubt consult your memorandum pad.” 

With which I left him. 

In a very sad and surly frame of mind I went 
out into the street again, feeling very hurt and 
miserable and sore depressed. To think that 
Doctor Redcar of all men could be so easily taken 
in cut me to the quick; to think that he should 
believe this circumstantial chain with which they 
hoped to drag me down without first testing it 
link by link, hurt my pride so that I would let 
him believe anything rather than defend myself 
any more. 

Suppose the photographer’s name was on the 
miniature, what of that? Why, they would be 
the first to prove it was a forgery, put there by 
that scheming witch to blacken my reputation. 
What if Miss Purvis had seen me in her arms 


CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 287 

and heard her say “ of course I will,” why then 
she’d heard it all, all the shameful interview, and 
she loved Flora Graham just as much as I did. 
I’d take my oath on that. 

And Bardilow could substantiate the innocent 
intent that underlay that wretched secret. Thank 
God I’d told him all about it ! And as for the 
inscriptions, they could join them up again and 
any fool could see that they were one. But what 
stumped me was the fiendish cunning of the altera- 
tion, adding just a touch to “ from ” to make it 
“ Flora.” 

I had eaten nothing since the morning, for my 
appetite was gone and nothing but a nausea re- 
mained, while through my fevered brain there 
drummed the never ceasing question, the ribbon 
— who’s got it? The ribbon — who’s got it? 
The ribbon — who’s got it? Until I was fit to 
scream at its senseless repetition. 

Presently, when it was nearly midnight and the 
cold was more than I could bear, I made my shiv- 
ering way back to my mockery of a home and 
sat me by the empty fireplace, wishing it were 
Christmas once again if only that I might see a 
blaze. The doctor had gone out to see a prize 
fight or something. Princess Ida long ago in bed, 
so I sat and mourned within myself that people 
were so ready to misjudge me and others so will- 
ing to do me hurt. 


288 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

I must have sat there more than half an hour 
when the telephone bell rang loudly in the con- 
sulting room. I didn’t heed it. Again it rang 
insistently and again I showed not the slightest in- 
terest. There was a pause for just a moment or 
two, and then it rang more persistently than be- 
fore and because its jangling discord irritated me 
beyond endurance I got up and answered it. 

“ Is that Doctor Redcar’s house? ” enquired a 
voice. 

“ Yes.” • 

“ Is Doctor Redcar in? ” 

“ No.” 

“Oh, is Mister James Redcar in?” 

“Yes, speaking.” 

“ Oh, Mister Redcar, this is Doctor Bardilow’s 
man speaking. Have you seen Doctor Bardilow 
to-day, sir? ” 

“ No, I haven’t.” 

“ Oh, have you any idea where he is, sir? ” 

“ Not the slightest. I haven’t seen him for 
days.” 

“ Thank you, sir. I wish I could find him.” 

“ Why, is it important? ” I asked. 

“ Yes, sir, very. There’s a message just come 
through saying that he must be in Paris to-mor- 
row for an operation as the patient might die if 
left any longer.” 

“ Oh,” I answered, recalling the cause of our 


CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 289 

meeting in the French capital, “ I’m very sorry, 
but I can’t help you.” 

“ Thank you very much, sir,” said the voice, 
“ Pm sorry to trouble you. Good night, sir.” 

“ Good night,” I answered, and hung up the 
receiver. 

I wished very heartily that I could find Bardi- 
low on my own account. He would never give 
credence to such a garbled concoction as the doc- 
tor had so readily listened to. And wishing he 
were here I suddenly remembered the night club. 
Why, to be sure, of course that’s where he was! 
He was bitten with the gaming fly as once he had 
been with the brandy. Roused to febrile life, 
once more I went out into the hall, and putting 
on my hat and coat set out to find him. 

The next thing I knew I was within the harm- 
less looking shop in Leicester Square, asking the 
porter for Mister Barlow, the name Bardilow 
used at this resort. The porter asked me to sign 
my name within the visitor’s book and then ush- 
ered me through the bar to the depths below. 

Bardilow was sitting at a table, flushed and 
shiny eyed, intent upon the cards before him, with 
a pile of gold and silver at his hand. 

He merely nodded and motioned to me not to 
disturb him, but I took no notice of his warning 
and whispered in his ear. 

“Have you forgotten Paris?” 


290 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Good Lord, old chap ! ” he exclaimed. “ I’d 
clean forgotten it ! ” 

And then his interest in the game vanished as 
the snow before the sun, for he was a surgeon 
first and last and all the time. 

“ Well,” said I, “ you’ve got to be there to- 
morrow.” 

“To-morrow is it?” he replied. “To-day 
you mean. What time is it? ” 

Taking out my presentation watch I showed 
him it was just one o’clock. 

Then explaining to his friends that he’d been 
called away he started to leave the table, but the 
others made a lot of fuss, and protested that he 
did it just because his luck was in and he was 
winning. A fellow jostled me most rudely and 
said he knew the dodge, it was an old trick and it 
wouldn’t work, and Mister Barlow ought to stop 
and finish the game. I would have struck him, 
only Bardilow prevented me. Then he threw his 
winnings on the table, and said if that was how 
they took it, there was their money. Take what 
they’d lost and go to blazes. He was done with 
them. 

The secretary hearing the disturbance came to 
see what all the trouble was about, and settled 
matters amicably, but Bardilow couldn’t be per- 
suaded to pick his winnings up again. 

When we got to the street he thanked me very 


CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 


291 


much and told me what a lot hung on this opera- 
tion. He declared that if he had missed it he’d 
have been a ruined man, and said that he would 
go straight home and gather up his things, and 
start for Dover in his car so as to catch the early 
packet. He begged me to let him take me home 
in his taxi, but by that time I was feeling queer 
and thought the walk would do me good. 

He was hardly gone when putting my hand in- 
side my coat to see the time, I found my pocket 
was empty and my watch was gone ! I burst into 
a fury and going back to the harmless looking 
shop essayed to pass the porter, but he barred 
my passage until feeling very helpless with my 
injured arm I raved at him and made such a com- 
motion that the secretary came out to see what all 
the fuss was about. 

When I’d told him what had happened, he 
looked very serious and annoyed and thought I 
must be mistaken, but I was so extremely positive 
that I had my watch when I entered, and told him 
how I’d looked at it before those men and women, 
that he begged me not to make a fuss but wait for 
just a minute and perhaps he could get it for me. 

When he went down-stairs I followed him and 
pointed out the man who’d jostled me, and after 
a lot of quiet talk and argument on the part of 
that wonderful secretary my watch was found be- 
neath the table and handed back to me. 


292 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

He had hardly done so when there came a 
scuffle and a rush at the end of the room. 

“ Stand where you are,” a voice called, im- 
periously. “ In the King’s name ! ” 

With horror I realized that the club was raided 
and that all of us, myself included, were under 
close arrest. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE SENTENCE 

There was a dreadful silence for just an instant, 
everybody standing up and looking cowed and 
agitated. Then the lights went out, and in the 
darkness that followed people scurried here and 
there like beetles in a trap, tables were over- 
turned, glasses smashed and coins scattered every- 
where upon the floor with a musical chink and 
jingle. Men and women jostled me and trod 
upon my feet, and cursed each other, and soon — 
like flotsam on the tide — I was carried to the 
regions above. 

Here a scuffling commotion added chaos to dis- 
order, and some one kept angrily demanding for 
the lights to be turned on. Going I knew not 
whither, and running cautiously I came full tilt 
upon a yielding bulk that threw its arms about 
me and held me tight. I strove to free myself 
from his embrace, but my right hand coming in 
contact with a row of cold, metallic buttons, I re- 
alised with horror I was captured; so I surren- 
dered with as good a grace as I could muster, and 
submitted to the officer’s restraining grasp. 

293 


294 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

Then some one, having found the switches, 
turned the lights up. 

“ Look here, old chap, let me go and I’ll make 
it worth your while,” I said to my captor. “ I’m 
not a member of the club.” 

“Sol You’d try to bribe a horficer, would 
you? All right, my beauty, hall the worse for 
you,” he replied, in simulated indignation. 

“ But I’m not a member,” I protested. 

“ You can tell that to the magistrate.” 

“ Good Lord I you’re not going to — ” 

“ Not going to I ” he scoffed, “ I’ve got you, 
me beauty, an’ you struck me, too, an’ tried to 
bribe me.” 

“ I did not strike you,” I answered, heatedly. 
“ I never touched you.” 

“ Now, then, come on, not so much of it,” he 
replied, twisting my wrist with great brutality as 
he led me to where the inspector stood, taking the 
keys and the books from the secretary, and mar- 
shalling his prisoners, of which there were about 
thirty, the others having escaped in the confu- 
sion. 

I appealed to the munificence and justice of my 
captor’s chief. 

“ Inspector,” I cried, “ I’m not a member here.” 

He nodded grimly. 

“ Bring him along.” 

“ But I’m not a member I tell you,” I shouted. 


THE SENTENCE 


295 

“ I suppose you’d only come to see a friend? ” 
he asked me, caustically. 

“ Yes,” I replied. 

“ Just like all the rest of ’em. Fall in.” 

In deep despair I took my place within that 
shameful cavalcade, and in a short time I found 
myself, speechless and In a burning fever, with 
my head on fire and my shoulder aching, In the 
charge room of the Vine Street Police Station. 

When my turn came I was charged with being 
found upon premises used for illicit gaming, with 
assaulting the police, obstructing them In the ex- 
ecution of their duty, attempting to bribe an offi- 
cer and being drunk and disorderly. Thunder- 
struck at the charge I could only stammer my 
denial In a voice that shook and halted, and be- 
cause I would not give them my address was 
placed with many others In a large, bare cell to 
wait the hour of magisterial enquiry. 

All through those dragging hours I never 
ceased from pacing back and forth, and up and 
down the confines of my prison, my brain on fire 
with the shame and misery of my situation. 

They brought me a cup of cocoa and a small 
brown loaf soon after sun up, but I waved it away 
and continued with my pacing. At half past nine 
they took me out Into the yard, and seating me 
within the station omnibus, drove me, a silent and 
unwilling passenger, to Bow Street. There my 


296 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

fellow captives and myself were placed before the 
dock, and charged with frequenting an unlicensed 
club, and gambling there, and drinking there; 
and many were fined, and some remanded, while 
I was put back to be heard a little later upon the 
graver crimes of assaulting, attempting to bribe, 
obstruction, and all the other counts on the Indict- 
ment that my captor had so assiduously prepared 
for me. 

When the time came I refuted passionately the 
foul charges brought against me. I swore that 
far from being drunk I was really very ill, and 
showed my strapped and bandaged shoulder in 
corroboration. I swore that I had not struck 
the constable, and the bruise being on his right 
cheek and my left hand out of commission, the 
learned magistrate gave me reluctantly the benefit 
of the doubt. And as for obstructing the police 
I merely tried to get away, as any other man in 
my position would have done. I admitted that 
in my panic I had foolishly said that I would make 
it worth the constable’s while to allow me to de- 
part, but I had said it thoughtlessly and without 
intent to commit offence. But as for being a 
member of such a disreputable club, or using it 
for any other purpose a reference to the visitor’s 
book would prove the falsity of that, as I had 
gone to find a friend who was urgently sought 
after, and had signed my name as I went in. 


THE SENTENCE 


297 


Then the visitor’s book was produced, and the 
lawyer went through it searching for the name of 
Arthur Prince, and as he couldn’t find it he handed 
it to me. To my horror I found the name of 
James Redcar In the member’s column, as intro- 
ducing one by name of Barlow! 

The magistrate very caustically suggested that 
if I could recall the member’s name for whom 
I went In search it might perhaps assist me, but I 
refused point blank to tell him that because Bardi- 
low’s honour was in my keeping. 

Then he asked me would I care for a remand so 
that I might get In touch with my friend and 
bring him here to prove my tale. My heart leapt 
at the opportunity until I remembered that I must 
give them my address, so I shook my head again, 
and thanking him refused. I was determined that 
Bardllow’s secret must be kept at any cost, and the 
doctor’s name must not be mentioned In the 
records of a sordid case like this. 

The magistrate shook his head over me. 

“ Arthur Prince, I am not at all satisfied that 
you do not deserve to suffer on all the charges en- 
tered here against you ; but there Is a doubt, and 
the law commands that any doubt existing must go 
to the benefit of the accused, so I am helpless. If 
it were not for your Injured arm I should say that 
you had struck the officer, and struck him viciously, 
so you have that to thank that you are free to go 


298 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

on that count. As regards obstruction there is 
again much to say in your favour, as, according 
to the inspector, you went to the station quietly and 
gave no trouble when there. Your candid admis- 
sion of your attempt to bribe the officer I must also 
allow to weigh in your favour, coupled as it is with 
a very feasible explanation. Neither is the evi- 
dence strong enough, unsupported, to convict you 
of the charge of being drunk, and again you have 
your injured arm to thank; but as regards the 
grave offence of frequenting an abominable resort 
such as this proved to be, there is not the slightest 
doubt that you were there, and there for an illegal 
purpose. On your own admission this is not the 
first time you have been there, and your futile ex- 
planations and incredible story of a friend, easy 
enough to corroborate if true, merely aggravate 
your offence. It is my intention whenever any- 
body is brought here charged with using such per- 
nicious institutions as night clubs, to treat such per- 
sons with the utmost severity, and on that count 
you are fined five pounds and costs.” 

So they took me to the office, where I wrote a 
cheque and had to wait in bondage till it was 
cashed and the money in their hands. By this 
time, my mind, released from the tension it had 
lately undergone, gave way to melancholy and my 
head ached and throbbed as it had never ached be- 
fore, and occasionally I relapsed into periods of 


THE SENTENCE 


299 


nothingness — when all was black — and when I 
was myself again my guardian was looking at me 
queerly, so that I was very self conscious in conse- 
quence. But after a while the messenger returned 
with the money, and I was free to go. 

I went out into the street again, and again I 
wandered aimlessly, sometimes dreaming I was in 
the maze with little Princess Ida, and coming to 
myself discovered I was calling her. Then I 
longed to go to sleep again because of the awful 
melancholy and depression that assailed my con- 
scious moments ; and I tried to cheer myself by say- 
ing that no one would ever connect convicted 
Arthur Prince with James Redcar, or Jim the un- 
classified who was once a grub but was now a pitia- 
ble worm crushed beneath a mountain of woe, and 
malice, and misadventure. Presently, waking 
from a dream, I found myself leaning on the low 
wall of the Thames Embankment, just beyond 
Cleopatra’s Needle, gazing at the murky stream 
below with awful fascination, and an impulse com- 
ing over me, very powerful and uncontrollable, I 
tried to get over the parapet, because I saw my 
sweet Princess in the stream beckoning to me and 
holding up my little bit of ribbon. 

A well dressed man took hold of me and pulled 
me back and asked if I knew what I was doing, and 
coming to myself again I thanked him lucidly, and 
told him that I’d had a sleepless night and didn’t 


300 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

quite know, perhaps, what I was about. He told 
me he once had been homeless and had thrown 
himself into the river just as I had tried to do, but 
being rescued his luck had turned and here he was, 
a prosperous man. So cheer up, my boy. 

Some time after this I found myself in my room 
at the doctor’s house, and looking round in my 
astonishment espied the washstand, so pouring out 
near a basin full of water I put my fevered face 
therein, and opening my mouth drank great gulps 
of it, after which I washed and felt a great deal 
better ; but still the pain about my shoulder and the 
ball of fire in my head was almost more than I 
could bear, while my pulses throbbed and my heart 
drummed against my ribs. 

Presently the housemaid knocked on the door 
to tell me the doctor wished to see me. I went 
down to the study, stumbling upon my way, with 
my stubborn will goading my semi-conscious 
brain into a semblance of life, and checking the 
insistent desire to lapse again into the land of 
dreams. 

The doctor was like a thundercloud, his eyes 
ablaze with passion. 

“ When did you come home? ” he demanded, as 
soon as I stood before him. 

“ Oh, some time,” I answered, vaguely. 

“ Where were you last night? ” 

“ Oh — er — out and about.” 


THE SENTENCE 


301 

“Out and about?” he thundered, “out and 
about? How is it you were not in bed? ” 

“ Because I couldn’t get here,” I replied, with 
a frantic effort to collect my thoughts. 

He handed me the evening paper with a gesture 
of finality. 

“What’s the meaning o’ that?” he inquired, 
showing me a report of my case. 

“ Just my infernal luck again,” I answered, 
laughing bitterly; “another crime to add to the 
last.” 

“ What were you doing there ? ” he demanded, 
angrily. 

“ That I can’t tell you,” I replied. 

“ Then I am to draw me own conclusions? ” 

“ Draw what you like,” I protested, passion- 
ately. “ If you believe that Flora Graham non- 
sense you’ll believe anything, no matter what I say.” 

“ James, I’m astonished,” he said, “ and bitterly 
disappointed. Ye’ve come back from Italy noth- 
ing better than a loose, low libertine.” 

“ Doctor Redcar,” I retorted, “ you’ve no right 
to say that. I’ve come back as I said I would, a 
clean, straight, honourable man. If you weren’t 
so blind you’d see that, but you’re drunk, sir, 
drunk with passion. The image of Princess Ida 
has kept me pure — ” 

“ Don’t you dare befoul her name with your 
licentious tongue,” he interrupted. 


302 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

I started back as if he’d struck me. 

“ I was there,” I said, “ to save a friend from 
shame.” 

“ Who was your friend? ” 

“ That I have said I cannot tell you.” 

‘‘ But you’ve been there before? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Was that to save a friend from shame, also? ” 

“ No, it was not.” 

“ Then what was it for? ” 

“ It was because a friend of yours thought I 
would like a new sensation.” 

He stiffened at my words and a flush of anger 
suffused his ruddy cheeks, his violet eyes blazing 
almost black in his indignation. 

“Leave this house! ” he thundered. 

Putting my hand into my waistcoat pocket I 
drew out his watch, and freeing it from its chain 
handed it to him. 

“ You may as well have this,” I said. “ I 
shouldn’t care, after this, ever again to look upon 
its face, for fear that I would be reminded how un- 
just its donor is. Besides, it may serve whenever 
you see the inscription, to sting you just a trifle as 
you’ve stung me.” 

“ Begone 1 ” he roared, “ and never show your 
insolent face again.” 

So, placing it upon the table, I went out without 
a word. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


DE PROFUNDIS 

Now that my encounter with the doctor was over 
and the necessity for restraint had passed away, 
my fevered brain relapsed into its former state and 
again I sank into the land of dreams. I thought 
I was upon the waters in a frail boat whose tim- 
bers leaked, and bail as I would I could not gain 
upon the flood. I thought my Princess Ida was 
upon an island waiting for me. It seemed that she 
was beset with wild beasts and wilder men who 
lusted for her life, and that she thought that I 
was false to her because I was delayed. And so I 
worked with fevered haste, sweating at every pore, 
knowing that I could do it if only I had time 
enough and didn’t have to go to prison for gam- 
bling. Standing ankle deep in my leaking boat I 
threw my arms to Heaven and wailed in my 
agony: “ Bardilow, come back! Oh Bardilow, 
come back and tell them all I ” 

My cry recalled me to myself again, and I shiv- 
ered, drawing my coat about my chest, for the 
night was cold. 

And then again I thought I was upon a rocky 
ledge cut into the face of a frowning cliff, o’er 
303 


304 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

which the doctor had cast me in his rage. I clung 
with fearful and despairing fingers to the rock, and 
in my anguish called aloud : 

“ Bardilow, come back! Oh Bardilow, come 
back and tell them all ! ” 

Again my cry aroused me, and again I shiv- 
ered, drawing my coat close, for the night was 
cold. 

Then the fever must have returned for I 
thought I stood before a blazing house, and the 
fire scorched my face and head and hands, and my 
little lady was inside calling aloud for help, and I 
thought that I had placed her there, telling her to 
trust me for I was true to her and I would save 
her; and a cinder from the fire had escaped and 
somehow got inside my head, and burnt fero- 
ciously, shrivelling my brain. 

I thought that Bardilow had been with me, and 
going off to Paris had — 

Then a voice beside my ear awoke me to my- 
self. 

“ My little Prince, what ails you? Answer, for 
Hubert’s sake.” 

Suddenly I recognised the kind face of Alec, and 
we were in King Street, Hammersmith, and his 
arm was round my neck, but how I got there I 
don’t know to this day. 

“ Bardilow is in Paris. Why don’t he re- 
turn?” 


DE PROFUNDIS 


305 

“ My Prince,” he said, in sore distress, “ you’re 
wandering and ill! ” 

“ He knows everything, and he can put me 
right.” 

“ Come, my boy,” said Alec with great deter- 
mination, “ you’re not fit to be about. You come 
home with me and get into your own old bed.” 

I recoiled from him in horror. 

“ No,” I answered, in a panic. 

“ You shall ! ” he replied. 

“ Never,” I said, stubbornly, while she is 
there.” 

“ While who is there? ” he demanded. 

“ Flora Graham,” I answered, shrinking back in 
terror. 

‘‘ My little Prince,” he said, in soothing tones, 
“ she’s gone, she’s left us, suddenly and without a 
word.” 

After hearing that I went to sleep again. 

Presently there came a time when the fire in my 
brain cooled, imperceptibly at first, then rapidly, 
and I ceased to dream of perils and I sank into a 
deep slumber which seemed to last a lifetime. 

When finally I was thoroughly awake once more 
I realised to my astonishment that I was in my 
own bed in the doctor’s house. There were two 
heads near the window. One was Alec’s, and the 
other was covered with the beautiful chestnut 
locks that reminded me of my little lady. I 


3o6 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

wasn’t able to speak; I was so abominably weak 
that all I could do was just to move my lips and 
sigh a little louder than was usual. But Princess 
Ida heard me. She caught her little hands to- 
gether, and seeing that my eyes were open, threw 
herself upon me and broke into a flood of tears, 
while Alec roared, “ Thank God! ” 

Then my little lady crept quietly out of the 
room, sobbing as she went; and in a little 
while returned with Doctor Redcar, who looked 
at me and felt my pulse, and put a thermometer 
beneath my arm and gave me something to 
drink. 

“ He’ll do now,” he said. “ Ye mustn’t speak 
a word to him, either of ye, but just go quietly out 
and leave him to himself, and come back in about 
four hours, and when he wakes again just send for 
me at once.” 

So out they all trooped while I watched them 
languidly, too weak to speak, too tired to be in- 
quisitive. 

The days went by until I was a little stronger. 
My sweet Princess was allowed to sit with me 
alone and talk to me for twenty minutes. So hold- 
ing my hand in both of hers, she told me that she 
loved me dearly, and was ashamed of herself be- 
cause she had thought ill of me, and blamed her- 
self for my condition. 

“ Oh, Jimmy dear 1 we know all about it now ! 


DE PROFUNDIS 


307. 

Everything! Bardilow came back and told us all. 
Just as you had so often wished.” 

“ Did he tell you all about the miniature ? ” I 
asked her, faintly. 

“ Everything, my poor, dear love,” she 
answered, laying her head beside mine on the pil- 
low. “ Oh, Jimmy, I can never forgive myself 
for being so horrid and so jealous.” 

“ What about the — er — the other mat- 
ter? ” 

“ He told us all about that too, and father was 
so angry with him. Oh I it was so noble of you, 
Jim, to shield him so.” 

Then she kissed me right upon the mouth, which 
did me much more good than all the sleep and 
medicine. 

It was seven weeks before I was out of bed and 
seated in my little room with all my friends about 
me. Princess Ida was there and the doctor and 
Bardilow, and dear old Alec, and what one didn’t 
know the other did, and so between them all I got 
the story link by link until It was complete. 

Jim, me bye,” said the doctor, pointing to 
Alec, “ there stands the best friend ever a man 
had, and the stoutest champion. Let me tell ye 
that.” 

“ Ah,” I smiled, “ he’s all right when you know 
him.” 

At which Alec stood upright, and with eyes that 


3o8 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

gleamed with pleasure waved his arm towards the 
doctor. 

“ The finest English gentleman that ever came 
out of Ireland,” he said. 

“ Both of which titles were won long ago by 
this old boy,” said Bardilow, laying his hand af- 
fectionately upon my knee, “ for he is the best 
friend, the stoutest champion, and the finest gentle- 
man that ever came out of — ” 

“ A pub,” I broke in, wishing to shut him up. 

Then the doctor told me how Alec had come 
to him, telling him that I was ill and calling for 
Bardilow, and how he had refused to have any- 
thing to do with me, and how Alec had pleaded 
with him until the doctor, waxing wroth, had told 
him what a scamp I was and that he was done with 
me. At hearing which Alec had blazed at him 
and called him a liar, “ didn’t ye, Alec, ye ould 
blagyard? ” he asked. 

“ Out upon me ! aye, I did,” said Alec. 

“And a fool?” 

“ And eke a fool.” 

“ And then I ordered him out of the house,” 
continued the doctor, “ at which he stormed at me, 
and said for all me eminence I couldn’t tell a big 
B from a bull’s foot, and he shamed me, Jim, with 
his loyalty to ye, let me tell ye that. And then I 
came and looked at ye, and saw that ye’d got brain 


DE PROFUNDIS 


309 


fever, and heard ye call for Bardilow, and pre- 
scribed for ye, and the constant calling for that 
scamp there,” and he pointed to the famous sur- 
geon, “ got upon me mind so that I rung him up 
and found he’d just got back from Paris, and tould 
him what Pd done to ye, may God forgive me — 
and then, of course, I got the truth.” 

“ Yes,” said Bardilow, “ if I could only have 
foreseen Pd never have taken you there, old 
chap.” 

“ Lucky for you you did though, wasn’t it? ” 
I asked. 

“ Very, old chap, we pulled him through,” and 
taking up the doctor’s tale, “ we got out the big car 
and scooted down to Hammersmith, and made an 
ambulance of it and brought you here, and if it 
hadn’t been for me, you’d a snuffed it,” and he 
wagged his head and winked. 

“ Ah, come out o’ that ! ” said the doctor, on 
his mettle, “ it was nothing at all to do with 
you.” 

“ Everything to do with me,” responded Bardi- 
low, because I put you right about the miniature, 
and brought little Ida round again so that she 
loved you again, Jim, and nursed you back to 
life.” 

“ Did you nurse me all the time? ” I asked my 
little lady, wonderingly. 


310 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ All the days, Jimmy dear, I was with you 
helping the nurse. Alec was your night nurse. 
He insisted on it.” 

‘‘ But what became of your job at the theatre, 
Alec? ” I demanded. 

“ My job! My job did you say? Out upon 
you, Jim! Do you call that a job? Why your 
life’s worth fifty jobs, my boy, thousands of jobs 
&uch as that ! ” he replied, vehemently. 

On hearing which I felt extremely humble and 
very, very thankful and couldn’t speak. 

“ Of course you went to the photographer’s? ” 
I finally inquired. 

“ Rather ! ” said Bardilow. “ We soon tripped 
Flora Graham up on that score.” 

“And you explained about the frame?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ What about Miss Purvis? Did you get any- 
thing out of her? ” 

“ Everything, my boy,” replied the doctor. 
“ She heard it all, and she’s no lover of a schem- 
ing woman without modesty, let me tell you that.” 

“ Then everything is clear,” I said, pleased be- 
yond belief, “ except the inscriptions. You’ll 
have to take my word for that.” 

“ Your word,” responded Bardilow, scornfully, 
“ your word isn’t worth a tinker’s cuss. You 
wouldn’t tell the truth about the night club so of 
course you wouldn’t be believed about the in- 


DE PROFUNDIS 


311 

scription. Doctor Redcar, is the credit of this due 
to me or is it not? ” 

“ Yours, me bye, entirely,” replied the other. 

“ Well,” continued Bardilow, “ we put two and 
two together and they fitted well enough, in places, 
where they hadn’t been trimmed round, but all 
the same It didn’t clear you sufficiently for my 
mind, so I hunted round your table here and spent 
hours, I should think, upon your blotting pad try- 
ing to see if I could find any of it among the blots 
and streaks, and after a while I found it — ‘ From ’ 

— and then a space, then ‘ Jim,’ and underneath 

— the rest — a lot of it obscured of course, but 
It’s your rotten, bad writing that gave her the 
chance, old chap.” 

I smiled in my content and squeezed my little 
lady’s hand, more glad than I could tell to think 
he’d paid me back so handsomely, and after a bit 
he found the blotter for me and holding it re- 
versed against the mirror showed me my original 
Inscription. 

“You saved my honour, old chap,” he said, 
“ but I’ve given you back your own! ” 

And later, when the doctor thought it time for 
me to go to bed, he stood before me very humbly, 
and holding out my watch looked wistfully and 
lovingly Into my eyes. 

“ Jimmy, my son,” he pleaded, “ will ye do me a 
favour and take it back? It’s a real good watch.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE DAWNING OF A BETTER DAY 

A FEW days later Mr. Graham asked for a private 
interview. He apologised for the brusqueness 
and brutality with which he’d cross-examined me, 
giving as his excuse a father’s love for his only 
child. He told me that the evidence seemed very 
black indeed until he came to test it, when the 
case had toppled over like a house of cards. He 
had been astonished by his daughter’s attitude and 
was unable to guess at her motive. In his anger 
and disgust he’d packed her off to Scotland, where 
she was to remain in the custody of an aunt until 
she showed a return to reason. And he entreated 
me most earnestly to spare her for her mother’s 
sake, who was an invalid and might be killed by 
any publicity. I told him that so long as I did not 
see her again she was free to do just as she pleased, 
for all I wanted now was to forget her. He 
thanked me very gratefully, and offered his future 
services if I should need them at any time, and 
there the matter rested. 

But there was one thing I was determined upon. 
I wouldn’t give the miniature to Princess Ida, 
much as she desired it, nor yet the frame ; so one 
312 


DAWNING OF A BETTER DAY 313 

evening together we deposited each relic of Flora 
Graham’s treachery within the fire, piece by piece. 
Instead I gave her the butterfly in brilliants with 
eyes so like her own, and, though it was such a 
long time after her birthday, it was none the less 
acceptable because of that, and we swore a dread- 
ful oath together that come what might, she would 
never more doubt my love and constancy. Nor 
would I ever again have a secret which she did not 
share. Furthermore she promised to marry me 
just as soon as Fortune condescended to throw 
Beppo across my path. 

But I never referred to that unfortunate little 
bit of ribbon, and neither did she. 

The next thing that happened was the return of 
Vanderdocken, full of pride because my salon and 
academy exhibits had earned great praise and 
what is better, sold extremely well; and superin- 
tended all arrangements for my autumn show, and 
wouldn’t let me do a thing but just recuperate, and 
rebuild my wasted tissues. 

My exhibition opened in the fall and collectors, 
critics and the curious swarmed to them. Alec 
was installed at a little covered table just inside 
the gallery, and took tickets and disposed of 
catalogues, and booked orders for engravings, and 
many people thought he was the artist, so well did 
he suit the part with his flowing hair, and flowing 
tie, and ever flowing tongue. 


3 14 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

To celebrate my debut the dear old doctor went 
about and invited all he knew and many whom he 
didn’t to meet me at a dinner at his house in the 
street off Cavendish Square, and I can’t say now 
who was the happiest and the proudest there, my 
little lady or myself. This mild species of enter- 
tainment wasn’t enough for Bardilow, however. 
He was all on fire to give me what he considered 
a more befitting send off, so he invited all who took 
an interest in me to have a real night out with 
him, allowing him to set the pace, and not to be 
inquisitive as to the order of the revelries. The 
doctor agreed to come and Vanderdocken, and 
Alec, and we rung up Dicky Day and got his ac- 
ceptance. And we fitted Alec with a hired evening 
suit and bought a high and shiny hat for him, 
which gladdened his old heart so that he was near 
to tears with the intensity of his joy and thankful- 
ness. 

Our host marshalled us into a celebrated hotel 
where we sat at a table within a screened recess, 
while a tubby waiter bestowed on us all his skilled 
attention. I think I never ate a meal that I might 
have enjoyed so much, greatly on account of the 
generous appreciation my friends lavished on me, 
every one without exception ; but though they did 
their very best to hearten me, I was somewhat un- 
responsive because though I stood upon the very 
pinnacle of fame, there was one thing wanting to 


DAWNING OF A BETTER DAY 


315 

complete my happiness, and that one thing was — 
Beppo. 

Beppo, who, as it were, held for me the Keys 
of the Kingdom of Heaven; Beppo, within whose 
black and sin stained heart was locked the secret 
of my parentage; Beppo, the much sought after; 
Beppo, the wary, the elusive, and the indispensa- 
ble ; Beppo — the only man who knew ! 

So I yearned for Beppo almost as much as I 
had at one time yearned for Bardilow, yearned for 
him with a passionate longing, yearned to have his 
dirty throat within my hand that, squeezing it, I 
might extract the knowledge that I sought. He 
was the one corroborative link without which my 
chain of happiness must be always incomplete. 
So I listened to their quips and merry jests and 
smiled with as much of heart as I could muster, 
and responded to their toasts and tried my very 
best to act my part of honoured guest. 

Presently the meal being over we all of us got 
into Bardilow’s car, a four seater. We were 
eight, including the chauffeur. How we did it I 
don’t know but I distinctly remember that one was 
upon the footboard, and another rode astride the 
bonnet. Thus curiously grouped we drove off to 
a music hall in time for the latter half of the pro- 
gramme and I forgot my spectres in the absurdities 
I listened to, and by the time we came out was as 
joyous as the rest of them. Then we bundled 


3 1 6 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

once more into the panting, overburdened car and 
drove through London town, singing choruses we’d 
lately heard, and even Justus Vanderdocken and 
the doctor for once forgot their dignity, so infec- 
tious was the gaiety of Bardilow. 

Our way led back to the Connaught rooms, 
where we went for another toast before closing 
time, and we stayed so long that they turned us 
out and when Vanderdocken proposed to go home 
to bed Bardilow refused to listen to him, and 
bundled him, protesting, back into the car. We 
rolled on through the deserted streets until we 
stopped, before the dove toned portals of the 
Royal Automobile Club in staid Pall Mall. Here 
although all the respectable members had long 
since retired for the night, so that there were none 
about but those who’d come in by the later trains, 
Bardilow bustled about whispering first to one 
official and then to another, until presently we 
were escorted down into the bowels of the earth to 
join him in a Turkish bath, which he said would 
refresh us and make us fit to appreciate a little sup- 
per he had ordered for us at half past two ! 

The majority made haste to get it over, but 
Bardilow and I, because he was my host and I his 
guest of honour, made more of it and dawdled 
through the temperatures until we came to the 
massage slabs, when, after much debate, he in- 
sisted on my going first, there being but one at- 


DAWNING OF A BETTER DAY 317 

tendant on account of the late hour. I was 
anxious to get it over quickly so I threw myself 
face downwards on the marble slab, for all the 
world like a victim prepared for sacrifice. When 
my shoulders and my spine had been well rubbed 
and stroked and pounded, all in silence, I turned 
myself upon my back that the rest of me might 
receive a like attention, and looked for the first 
time into my attendant’s face. His skin was 
olive and his eyes as black as sloes, his gleaming 
teeth shone down at me from out a fierce mous- 
tache of sable hue in such a manner that I started 
from the slab as if I’d seen a ghost. 

He looked at me and I at him. 

“ Beppo! ” I gasped, hoarsely, reaching out to 
clutch him. 

“Holy smoke; who is it? Heyl ” he ex- 
claimed, backing away from me. “ It can’t be 
Sir Edward — it is not old enough — it can’t 
be — ” 

“ It’s Jim,” I said, triumphantly, catching at his 
wrist. 

But the soap upon his hands made him as slip- 
pery as an eel, so that giving his arm a sudden 
twist he was free, and before I could restrain him 
was running back into the hot rooms. 

“ Stop him, Bardilow ! ” I shouted. “ It’s 
Beppo I ” 

My host required no second bidding and throw- 


3 1 8 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

Ing his arms about Beppo held him tight till I came 
up, and added my persuasions to his own. 

Then Beppo collapsed, and sinking to his knees 
clasped me about the loins. 

“ Mistaire Lorrilow,” he cried, with starting 
eyes, “ I did not do it. I swear by all the saints I 
did not do it! ” 

“ Do what? ” I asked. 

“ Keel your moder, Jim. I did not do it. It 
was not me.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right,” I said. “ I know you 
didn’t, and what is better I know who did.” 

At which he stared, dumfounded, with his jaw 
dropped down. 

“ But all the same,” I continued, “ I’ve got you, 
and I shan’t let you escape me again.” 

He began to struggle once more at this and 
begged for mercy, pleading that he hadn’t meant 
to blackmail her but he was very poor. 

“ Oh,” I protested, “ don’t bother yourself 
about that, that’s dead. I’m not going to hurt 
you.” 

“What of William?” he gasped, fully con- 
quered. 

“ He’s dead,” I replied. 

“ An’ John Sturgess? ” 

“ Dead, too, but never mind them. You are 
the only man who can tell me whether I am Sir 
Edward Lorrilow’s son or not.” 


DAWNING OF A BETTER DAY 319 

“ You are, Mistaire Jim. I swear you are.” 

‘‘Thank God! ” I answered. “Was he mar- 
ried to my mother? ” 

“ I t’ink he was, but I could not say for sure.” 

“ You think he was, how’s that? ” 

“ Because it ’appen up in Scotland.” 

“Was John Sturgess’s wife my mother?” 

“ Yes. Who you t’ink was, hey? ” 

“ What makes you think they were married? ” 

“ Oh, it was all ver’ foolish. Your fader ask 
her for be ’is wife. She say, ‘ Yes, alright,’ an’ 
Mister Graham say dey was married.” 

“Mister who?” I almost shouted, recalling 
Flora Graham’s boast that my father and hers 
were once friends. 

“ Graham.” 

“ What Graham?” 

“ Oh, he ver’ great friend of your fader’s and 
he is lawyer. He knows.” 

We took our prisoner to the great swimming 
bath where the doctor was racing with Dicky Day, 
and beckoning to Doctor Redcar and Alec, and 
begging the others excuse us for a while, we re- 
turned to the massage slabs, explaining our errand 
as we went. There we sat upon the slab in 
solemn session, for all the world like ghosts upon 
a gravestone; while Beppo, being assured of our 
amiable intentions towards him, told us all the tale 
of my mother’s marriage. 


320 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ Sir Edward Lorrilow,” he said, “ ’e was al- 
ways ver’ fond of your moder, Mistaire Jim, and 
she lofe him, ah — oh, so ver’ much! But she 
was what you call — ver’ free — was Matilda. 
Ever’body lofe your moder and she — lofe ever’- 
body! She lofe John Sturgess, she lofe me, but 
she lofe Mistaire Edward better dan all of ’em. 
De Lorrilows always spend de Autumn in Scot- 
land at ’er ladyship’s fader’s, for de shooting, an’ 
that year Mistaire Edward ’e come of age — ’e 
was twenty-one, see I And dey gave a big dance 
up-stairs an’ anoder down-stairs In de servants’ 
’all. In de middle of it Mistaire Edward an’ Mis- 
taire Graham dey go down an’ dance wid de ser- 
vants. Dey was both what you might call a little 
fresh, — full of fun and want to lark about. Mis- 
taire Edward, ’e take your mother’s ’and an’ ’e 
say, ‘ DIs Is de girl what I goin’ to marry,’ an’ ’e 
kiss ’er right dere — before all of us, an’ den ’e 
’old ’er ’and an’ say to ’er : ‘ Will you ’ave me 

for your ’usband, Matilda, an’ be Lady Lorrilow 
when de ole man’s croaked? ’ an’ Matilda she look 
pretty, an’ blush, an’ laugh — an’ say, ‘ Oh Mis- 
taire Edward 1 yes. If you will ’ave me for your 
wife,’ an’ den ’e kiss ’er, an’ den she ’ide ’er face 
an’ giggle an’ run away from ’im. Mistaire 
Graham look ver’ serious an’ say, ‘ Of course you 
don’t mean it, Ted?’ Mistaire Edward say, 
‘ Mean it! of course I mean it, an’ we’ll ’ave it all 


DAWNING OF A BETTER DAY 321 

proper w’en we get back to town.’ Den Mlstaire 
Graham take ’im by de arm an’ lead ’im to de door. 
‘Ted, you silly fool I’ Mistaire Graham say. 

‘ You’re in Scotland now. You’ve married ’erl ’ 
Mistaire Edward say ’e know what ’e’s about, 
’e’s goin’ to ’ave Matilda for ’is wife an’ he don’t 
give a Goddam wot ’appens.’ Your moder an’ 
Mistaire Edward dey arrange .to ’ave it done 
proper in town an’ den ’er ladyship she find out 
someding, an’ Matilda she is sent away, an’ Mis- 
taire Edward ’e goes off to Italy an’ I go wid ’im 
— I was ’is valet. After a bit ’e forget all about 
Matilda an’ marry an American lady, an’ poor 
Matilda — because she was in trouble — she 
marry John Sturgess who want ’er ver’ bad, an’ 
den you come. Ole Sir James die, an’ Sir Ed- 
ward say ’e like Italy so much ’e going to stop 
dere — an’ dere you are.” 

When he’d finished his amazing tale the doctor 
slapped him on his bare back, and told him he was 
a brick, and asked him if he’d come and see Mister 
Graham with us the next day. He consented pro- 
vided he could get the time off. Bardilow wrote 
out a cheque for fifty pounds on a slip of the Club 
note paper, and told Beppo it was his as soon as he 
had faced Sir Edward Lorrilow with me, at which 
my Alec’s ‘ black browed varlet of a foreign hue ’ 
said he’d come whether he could get the time or 
not. 


322 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

So we arranged that he should dress and come 
home with us, and, searching out our friends, 
apologised for leaving them so long, and finding 
supper ready sat down to it. 

Never will I forget that feast as long as life is 
in me; for one thing I was, at last, supremely 
happy because that Beppo had come back out of 
the murk of years, when most I wanted him and 
when least I had expected him. The others re- 
joiced in my happiness and we were all very jolly 
indeed. 

We sat around the board in bath robes, some 
pure white and others crimson edged, with sandals 
on our feet, and so real was the impression made 
on some of us that Alec stood upright, with the end 
of his robe across his shoulder, toga fashion, pure 
white against the purple background of the bath, 
and lifting his lean, bare arm above his white and 
fluffy head, proposed a toast in this fashion : 

“ Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears, 

I rise to drink to Jim here, and to praise him; 

The evil that men do lives after them. 

The good is oft interred with their bones. 

Let this not be with Jimmy, 

For he has done of evil none at all. 

And evil be to him who thinks he has.” 

“ Bravo I Bravo I ” cried Bardilow, “ that’s 
ripping stuff, old chap,” and getting up he clinked 
his glass with mine, at which they all followed suit. 

I was hilariously happy. I laughed the loudest 


DAWNING OF A BETTER DAY 323 

of them all. I drank with them and they with me 
and, strange as it may seem, my Alec turned into 
two Alecs, not solid ones, but a pair of misty, eva- 
nescent forms that merged and separated even as 
I looked ; and sometimes I caught myself laughing 
when there really wasn’t cause for it, and all be- 
cause my heart was full to overflowing with rapture 
and with thankfulness. After a while I caught 
them winking at each other knowingly, and tried 
to tax them with conspiracy, but the words refused 
to come. Looking out across the bath I saw great 
rectangular patches of vivid blue beyond the 
leaded windows, and standing upon the form 
with Bardilow’s arm supporting me, I placed my 
sandalled foot upon the table and commanding 
their attention pointed to that patch of morning 
sky. 

One more toast,” I cried, exultingly. “ The 
dawning of a better day.” 


CHAPTER XX 


RESTITUTION 

Beppo told US his story the next morning, the story 
of a roving life, a story full of poverty and hard- 
ship, and vain regrets for opportunities gone be- 
yond recall. He told us how Sir Edward had 
kicked him in his cups, and how he, in a burst of 
Southern passion, had knifed him in the neck; he 
told us of his flight, his “ dog days ” as a steward 
on an ocean tramp, his eventual arrival at a Devon 
port, his search for work, his hiding in the woods 
at Ravenhurst, waiting and watching for Lady 
Lorrilow that she might buy his silence, for he was 
desperate. 

He grinned self-consciously as he recalled my 
falling over him, the start of vicious anger that 
followed his surprise, his triumphant glee as he 
recognised my likeness to my father, his meeting 
with Bill Blay and how his cupidity had been 
aroused on learning how that reprobate bought 
comfort with his silence. 

He described his panic at the murder, his life 
among the gypsies, his subsequent arrival here in 
London and the priest at the Italian church in Hat- 
324 


RESTITUTION 


325 

ton Garden, whose kindly influence had obtained 
for him his present post as bath attendant. 

Very cunningly he mentioned the advertise- 
ments, of how he had seen them a score of times 
but refused to be lured into the net. It was at 
this point I promised should I ever come into my 
own that I would reinstate him in the service he 
had lost, that he would be my valet as he once had 
been my father’s. 

After a while we bundled him into the doctor’s 
car, and having seen Graham and told him of our 
discovery we waited in his outer office while he 
arranged his work, so that he might go down to 
Ravenhurst with us. He seemed really glad to 
do this and we started on the journey with light 
hearts. 

“ Mister Graham,” said the doctor, as we sped 
along through Guildford, “ what is the position of 
the parties? ” 

“ Doctor Redcar,” replied the man of law, 
“ Mister Lorrilow here is the legal son of Sir 
Edward and direct heir to all the Lorrilow estates. 
My poor, misguided dochter was the first to see 
it. She’d often heard me speak of the affair and 
she saw a resemblance between Jim and a photo- 
graph his father gave me when I made his ac- 
quaintance at Oxford. It was then that her am- 
bition overcame her better feelings, and she deter- 
mined to marry Jim because of it. But that’s all 


326 JIM -- UNCLASSIFIED 

past and done with now and she’s getting over it. 
I recognised Jim, too, of course, but resemblance 
isn’t evidence. There must be something more 
than a mere likeness — which may be accidental 
after all, and I knew nothing of Jim’s history be- 
cause Flora kept it all to herself. Sir Edward 
was a verra wild young mon, much too free with 
the lassies at all times. Ye see he was spoilt, be- 
ing an only child. When he played that mad 
prank o’ getting marriet to yer mother. Mister 
Lorrilow, I warned him it was a valid and binding 
marriage, though irregular, but he was fond of 
her and she of him and it was done quite openly 
before all those witnesses, and he never once at- 
tempted to disclaim it. So of course our young 
friend here completes the evidence of their inten- 
tion. It was what we call in Scottish law a mar- 
riage per verba de praesenti. It could have been 
ratified afterwards if the parties willed; but such 
ratification was not necessary.” 

“ Then what about her marriage to John Stur- 
gess? ” I asked. 

“ Bigamous, sir, and done to save her name 
when his mother packed him off.” 

“ Then she must have been — ” I gasped. 

“ Ah, come out o’ that ! ” broke in the doctor, 
“ we’re not here to discuss yer mother’s honour, 
Jim, but your parentage, and that’s established be- 
yond a doubt. Am I right. Mister Graham? ” 


RESTITUTION 


327. 


“ Absolutely,” replied the lawyer. 

“ Then what about Sir Edward’s American wife 
that I met in Italy? ” I persisted. 

“ No more his wife than she Is mine,” replied 
Mister Graham. “ In view of the undoubted 
validity of the former contract his union with her 
was bigamous, and that was the reason for his liv- 
ing his life In Italy. The auld lady was as proud 
as Lucifer when, after a month or so, he tauld her 
what he’d done and that he Intended to marry 
your mother again In London. She packed the 
lassie off without a moment’s notice, and dared him 
to have anything more to do with her. Lady Lor- 
rllow was such an unforgiving wumman that when 
a year or two afterwards he married this Ameri- 
can girl she told him If he ever came to England 
again In her lifetime she’d put the police upon his 
track for contracting a bigamous marriage. Och I 
she was a gey bitter wumman was your grand- 
mother, Meester Lorrilow. And so the puir, 
weak mon stayed In Italy till his mother died. 
Though It makes no deeference In law whether he 
acknowledges you or not, Meester Lorrilow, It’s 
a pleasure to me to try and make him do so, as I’m 
the only mon who ever had any Influence with him 
of a’, and I can never forget your generosity 
towards my puIr, misguided dochter.” 

We went by the way of Winchester and then on 
to Lyndhurst. We halted there and had our din- 


328 JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

ner at the old Elizabethan hotel while the chauf- 
feur put the hood in place and bought a fresh sup- 
ply of petrol. After our meal we were off again, 
ploughing through the mud and driving rain, our 
path illuminated by vivid veins of lightning, while 
the growl and grumble of the thunder sounded to 
me like the anger of the Lord poured upon my 
father’s head. When we passed the Goat and 
Compasses I pointed out to Doctor Redcar the 
spot where I was born, and told him that should I 
ever come back here as Lord of Ravenhurst, I’d 
pull the old house down, leaving the cellar exactly 
as it used to be in memory of the comfort I had 
derived from its fantastic gloom, and on its site 
build another house, a private one, wherein Alec 
and his wife, with the remnant of the dogs and 
cats and my canary, might end their days in peace 
and comfort. 

The storm was raging furiously as we drove 
up to the gates of Ravenhurst, the wind moan- 
ing and howling through the giant trees that 
lined the drive, shaking them as in a passion; and 
finding the entrance locked we were obliged to 
ring the bell and wait the pleasure of the lodge- 
keeper. 

George Pond’s hard-hewn face was wreathed in 
oily smiles when he came out into the rain to open 
the gate. 

“Is Sir Edward at home?” asked Mister 


RESTITUTION 


329 

Graham, putting out his head. “ I’m Mister 
Graham. You know me, I think.” 

“ I’m sorry, Mister Graham, but Sir Edward is 
not home, sir ! ” replied the lodgekeeper, looking 
genuinely concerned. “ He hasn’t been home for 
weeks, sir. He spends his time upon his yacht 
which is moored off Sidmouth, sir.” 

“ How long has he been gone? ” 

‘‘ Some weeks now, sir. Ever since he had an 
encounter with a poacher and got rather badly 
hurt, sir.” 

At hearing which I smiled, for I thought I could 
tell him something about that poacher. 

“ Oh,” said Mister Graham, stepping out into 
the rain and motioning to me to follow him, “ I’ve 
brought his son home.” 

As I stood before him, George Pond grew pale, 
then recovering from his astonishment, bowed low. 

“ Your servant. Mister James,” he said. 

We sped on again through Dorchester and 
Bridport, round by Lyme Regis, down the hairpin 
bends of Trow Hill with brakes jammed hard, and 
into Sidmouth. 

Here the storm was raging more furious than 
ever, the waves dashed up against the red cliffs 
and washed across the primitive esplanade so that 
half the front was under water. Rain and spray 
commingled beat with stinging force against our 
faces as we stood at the foot of the simple lantern. 


330 


JIM— UNCLASSIFIED 

gazing out into the mist. Great banks of clouds, 
heavy with rain, reached down their ragged edges 
to the boiling, raging sea, which threw up great, 
grey claws as if to clutch them. The wind 
shrieked about our ears as we leant forward the 
better to withstand its force, our overcoats and 
mackintoshes flapping ’tween our knees. 

But no sign of a yacht was there. 

The ragged edges of a cloud more venturesome 
than those preceding came low upon the boiling 
sea, and rushed eastward with resistless force. 

“Look!” I shrieked within the doctor’s ear. 
“ A waterspout 1 ” 

Then another followed in its wake, and when 
at last they’d spent themselves they scattered and 
dissolved in such a tossing burst of spume that I 
quailed to think what fate awaited mariners whose 
frail craft met such phenomena as this. 

A light flashed out. 

Beppo clutched my arm with trembling inten- 
sity. 

“ Rockets, Mister Jim,” he shouted. “ A ship 
is on the rocks ! ” 

So jumping in the car again we wormed our way 
amid the scurrying throng of Devon heroes, who, 
heedless of their lives and limbs, went up the top 
of Dunscombe cliffs, eager to succour those whose 
signal of distress they had seen. 

Arrived upon the summit we saw a crowd who, 


RESTITUTION 


331 


regardless of the risk of landslides, had sent a line 
down the face of the cliff. They were pointing 
out to one another the evanescent outlines of a 
snow white yacht beyond the sentinel rock, fast 
settling by the bows. 

“My God!” I cried. “ WeVe come too 
late.” 

The ferocity of the gale was such that even 
shouting was a mockery, so in silence we stood, 
battling to keep our feet, until a signal on the rope 
informed those sturdy men of Devon that the man 
who had gone down was coming back. They 
pulled lustily upon the rope, working with a 
rhythm and a swing, until, at last, there appeared 
above the edge the head and shoulders of a sailor. 
He was carrying a burden. 

We edged our way over to look upon them and 
I saw with a tightening of the nerves and a hideous 
contraction of the throat, that the rescued man 
was Sir Edward Lorrilow. I only had a moment 
to look at him before the doctor had gathered him 
up and striding to the car laid him on a seat. We 
drove to an inn, while another Devon man de- 
scended into Hell. 

Thus it happened that when I met my father 
once more face to face he was lying bandaged and 
strapped, in his bed. 

“ Ted,” asked Mister Graham, “ do you know 
me? ” 


332 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

“ AH, Donald,” sighed the other, “ I’m done 
for I Who else was saved ? ” 

“ Not a soul,” replied the lawyer, sadly. 

“My God, what a storm!” exclaimed the 
stricken man. “ I thought I was dead 1 ” 

“ Ted, old mon,” hastily broke in the man of 
law, “ the Lord has given ye a chance to repair yer 
wrongs and wipe out all yer little weaknesses.” 

“ How? ” asked the other, eagerly. 

“ Acknowledge yer son,” he replied, placing me 
within Sir Edward’s view. 

My father looked at me a little frightened, and 
then he set his jaw defiantly, eyeing me with much 
dislike, but a twinge of mortal agony seizing upon 
him caused him to writhe in anguish, and when the 
paroxysm had subsided his petulence and defiance 
had vanished. 

“ Jim,” he said, faintly, reaching out his hand 
to me, “ you are my lawful son and legal heir, as 
God in Heaven sees me.” 

Saying which he sighed yet once again, and went 
out to face his Judge. 


CHAPTER XXI 


I RECOVER MY RIBBON 

“ My sweet Princess,” I murmured, softly, taking 
her hands within my own, “ Prince Arthur lays at 
your lovely feet his name, his wealth, and his 
honour. Will you have me ? ” 

“Are you sure it’s all right, Jimmy?” she 
answered, placing her soft, young arms about my 
shoulders. “ It seems almost too good to be 
true I ” 

“ Marjery,” I replied, gazing deep into her 
glorious violet eyes, “ we have bought our happi- 
ness with pain. But, indeed, dear, pain and sor- 
row shared as ours has been is happiness unend- 
ing.” 

“I — I have a secret I have kept from you, 
Jimmy,” she confessed. 

“ Is it a very dreadful secret, my own? ” 

“ I suppose it was horrid of me. — I don’t know 
what you’ll say to me,” she stammered. 

“ Of course I’m going to be frightfully angry,” 
I replied, smothering her with kisses. “ I shall 
stamp and storm and fume and rage, and tell you 
that I never wish to see your face again, and then 

333 


334 


JIM — UNCLASSIFIED 

when I have frightened you to tears, I’ll very 
graciously forgive you. What is it? ” 

Taking my hand in hers she led me out of the 
drawing room and up the stairs to her own little 
boudoir, into which no one had ever entered but 
her father. 

“Th-there it is, Jimmy,” she said,, pointing to 
the wall. 

I followed the direction of her hand, and there, 
to my intense surprise, beheld my broken pistol 
pieced together carefully. It hung on the wall 
and it hung by that piece of ribbon I had worn 
within my little bag of oiled silk. 

“ Why where on earth did you get that from? ” 
I asked amazed. “ I always thought that Flora 
Graham had stolen that.” 

“ No, Jimmy dear,” she said, coming very close 
and laying her lovely head upon my shoulder. “ I 
took it — on the night of the soiree — while you 
were asleep in the carriage. A wicked impulse 
came upon me, and I opened the bag and took it 
away from you.” 

“But why, my sweetest pet? Why?” I de- 
manded. 

“ Oh, Jimmy, I was such a cruel little beast! ” 
she cried, looking up at me with eyes that brimmed 
with tears. “I — I took it because I thought it 
would hurt you, because I thought you didn’t love 
me any more. I hoped when you missed it you’d 


I RECOVER MY RIBBON 


335 


think that — that other girl had taken it and want 
it again, and perhaps grow to love me. When 
you never mentioned it I was afraid to tell you. 
You’re not cross with me are you, Jimmy dear? ” 
“ My sweet Princess,” I answered, folding her 
close within my arms, “ how could any one ever 
have the heart to be cross with you 1 ” 

And so standing in front of the broken pistol 
and the ribbon, the souvenirs of our childish affec- 
tion and the mementos of our maturer love, we 
kissed once again. 


THE END 


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